


the sun's been quite kind

by hemakeshimstrongx



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arguing, Baseball, Brits in the Americas, Drinking, Flirting, Fourth of July, Hand Jobs, I've called this the Summer AU, Kissing, Lots of shouting, Louis in Denial, M/M, Songwriting, Stargazing, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Twenty-Something Harry, Twenty-Something Louis, anne doctors harry quite a bit, i don't even know what else to put, jay doctors louis quite a bit, louis doesn't know what he wants, they're 28 and 26 to be exact, this is about it i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 23:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 53,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: “You know I can see you looking at him, right?” Lottie says pointedly, right in Harry’s ear so Louis can’t hear them; although it’s not like Louis is paying attention anyways, Tommy is there and they’re talking about something entirely different now. Harry gives Lottie a funny look, even though he knows exactly what she’s talking about.“Even after all this time, huh?” she asks.Harry shrugs. “I dunno. It’s probably just a nostalgia thing.”-Or: Harry and Louis haven't spoken in eight years. Harry finds himself unable to free himself from Louis' captivating pull. It's definitely not just a nostalgia thing.





	1. the sun's been quite kind

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is so, so long overdue. it's october. it's not even summer. but if i don't put this out i'm gonna explode. basically, since i'm shit at summaries, harry and louis are twenty-eight and twenty-six years old, and you never forget the person that first holds your heart.  
> this fic has a tracklist, imma link it!  
> (https://open.spotify.com/user/hemakeshimstrong/playlist/1XYeASsI8yoi2y7SGLRmQM)

**PREFACE (EIGHT YEARS AGO).**

_but dear,  
_ _don’t be afraid of love  
_ _it’s only magic  
_ _-r.m. drake_

“I love coming here,” Harry sighs, putting his hands behind his head.

Louis props himself up on one elbow over Harry, staring down at him. Because Louis can never do enough staring. Harry’s beautiful. Adorable. Breathtaking. Gorgeous. All of the above. Louis has known him for ages and can’t imagine life without him here.

“What’re you looking at?” Harry asks, cracking one eye open to look at Louis. “Stop staring at me like that, please.”

“I like looking at you. You look pretty here. Sun coming down… shirt off…” Louis drawls. “And I can’t stop thinking about how you looked last night… in bed.”

“Oh shut _up._ My mum can’t find out about that.”

“What, that we had sex?” he sings, grinning. “You really think Anne and Jay _both_ don’t know? A mother always knows.”

“My mother doesn’t know, and I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much. I’m seventeen. Newly turned it. She’d kill me.”

“Why’s that, Hazza? You’re practically an adult, and it’s not like I’m a stranger. She knows me. Loves me, actually.”

“It’s not like that. I know she knows you, I know for a fact that she loves you, probably more than I love you, actually, no-” Harry says quickly, then promptly stops. Louis arches his eyebrows. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”

“You did say it, and you might not have meant to.” Louis whispers. “But did you mean it?”

Harry swallows hard, nods his head quickly. Louis smiles warmly at him, then ducks his head to kiss Harry’s lips one time. Gentle, like everything else they’ve done ever since they were kids. “I love you too.” he murmurs. “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want to scare you, or whatever.”

It’s true. Louis is spilling the complete and utter truth, like he always is for Harry. With Harry. “Yeah?” Harry asks softly, biting his lip.

Louis nods. “Yeah, babe. Really.”

Three days later, Louis reveals to Harry that the Tomlinsons won’t be returning to the Bonnet Shores summer home they’ve been coming to for years now. Harry yells at him, yells at him for everything. For sleeping with him if they’re never going to see each other again. For making Harry fall in love with him if they can’t even be together. Louis argues that they didn’t just _sleep together,_ it was more than that. Harry argues that they’ll still never see each other again, it was miraculous enough that they’d both ended up at the Shores in the first place. Louis reminds that back in England they’re just a few hours away. Harry then says that Louis could have told him sooner. Louis asks if it would change things, but Harry says no.

Then, Louis kisses him, and they go inside for dinner.

**[EIGHT](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWOyfLBYtuU) YEARS LATER (PRESENT DAY). **

 “I happen to think that it’s stupid,” Louis remarks into the phone, balancing it between his ear and his shoulder while he pulls a suitcase from the top of his closet. We didn’t come back to Bonnet Shores when I graduated uni. Why is Charlotte any different?”

“I know you’re jealous,” his mother replies. “But if you could just come, that would be

great. We haven’t been in years, Lou. I think it’ll be nice to spend the summer here.”

Louis sighs. “I am coming. I’m leaving soon, packing now. It’s a damn good thing I live in the city. And a good thing I have a job that has the summers off. I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful driving. Text me before you leave, okay?”

“I will, mum.”

Louis hangs up the phone with another sigh, tosses the suitcase onto the bed and heads over to his dresser. A couple months in the American summer vacation home that he hasn’t been to in ten years. They used to go all the time when he was younger, for a three week period during the summer. They stopped coming because the trip overseas became too much for his mother, especially when she got divorced from Mark.

Now Jay has Dan and they’re well-off, his younger sisters are growing up and Ernest and Doris are turning six. She’s got her eldest son freshly twenty-eight (that makes Louis want to scream) and living in New York City with a job as a music teacher at a local high school, and her eldest daughter leaving uni, which apparently is enough motivation to go back to Bonnet Shores.

Louis didn’t get a congratulations party at the Rhode Island vacation home. When he graduated Leeds he got a little party at home in Doncaster. Sure, his job allows him the summers off, but he would’ve found a second job -- probably at the label with Liam -- to keep enough money flowing. But this is a family thing and he’s got to go, otherwise his mother will have his head about it. So he’s driving from his apartment in the city to the vacation home.

He starts packing, tossing in outfits nothing short of what he used to wear at the vacation home. He brings his adidas sneakers and converse, figuring that most of his time at the beach house will be spent barefoot anyway.  After triple checking the car for everything he’ll need for the car ride as well as the stay, Louis shoots a text to Zayn, asking him to get the mail and check on the flat every few days this way the box isn’t overflowing.

Louis wishes the drive to the vacation home isn’t so terribly long. Or he wishes to have somebody to at least share the drive with, this way it isn’t as boring. And they could switch spots, this way he could take a little break during the three hour drive. He plans on arriving around dinnertime, around five whenever they’re in the states, and immediately opening a beer. He’ll need a hell of a lot of alcohol to make it through the whole summer.

********

Louis doesn’t knock before going into the house, he just waltzes right in with his suitcase rolling behind him and sunglasses still on. “Honey, I’m home!” he calls, waiting to hear the tell-tale sounds of his younger sisters rushing to greet him but quickly remembering that they’re older now. Even Ernie and Doris don’t come looking for him.

“Where is everyone?” he asks when he finds his mother in the kitchen, as expected.

“Oh, you’re here!” She exclaims, dropping what she was doing to pull him into a hug. “I didn’t even hear you come in.” Louis announced himself like he always does, but he lets it slide that she didn’t realize. “Missed you so much, haven’t seen you in so long! Can I get you anything?”

“I’m assuming Dan did a proper job of setting us up with alcohol, so some of that would be great.” Louis says, pulling away from her and opening the fridge. To his pleasure he finds a case of beer, which he takes one of. “Are the girls around?”

“Everybody’s outside. Been at the beach since we got here. Lottie’s got Tommy here, so be nice.”

Louis rolls his eyes. _Be nice._ But to her, he nods and says jokingly that he can’t make any promises. He heads out onto the big back porch, where he can see the rest of his family running around on the beach. Tommy has a football that he’s kicking back and forth with Ernest and Doris, while the older girls are all sat in a row with sunglasses on their noses. The last time he was here was before he went off to uni, he hadn’t realized just how long it’s been. The place is exactly the same, he thinks. The sun is still sat low in the sky, not ready to set for a long time still. American summers bring birds singing and a warm breeze and the waves crashing up on the private beach.

He missed it here, he has to admit it.

Lottie must’ve noticed him while he’d been zoned out, because now she’s coming up the small boardwalk and yelling at him. “You’re here! Are you happy to be back or what?” she asks, throwing her arms around him.

“Yeah, very happy.”

“Don’t be in such a pissy mood for this entire vacation. This is supposed to be fun, Louis. We’re celebrating me!”

Louis hasn’t even considered that he might sound sarcastic. He truly doesn’t mean to. Not entirely. “I’m not going to ruin it, Charlotte. Tommy here?” he asks, though the answer to his question is obvious. She hums in response, nodding. “Good. I like him. You’re not doing anything irresponsible, are you, uni grad?”

Lottie lets out a laugh, already heading back for the beach. “That is when this conversation comes to a close. Good to have you here, Lou.”

“After we eat dinner, I’m gonna need you to do me a favor.” Jay comes out already talking to Louis. “I need ice cream.”

“ _Need_ it or _want_ it?”

Jay rolls her eyes, smacking him on the arm. “Want it. Can you drive in after dinner? Maybe get another bottle of wine, too, since between yourself, Tommy, and Lottie, we’ll be running low before tomorrow morning.”

“I can do that, don’t worry.”

They eat dinner sitting on the back deck like they used to, talking and laughing and drinking. Jay strictly instructs Louis to _hold off_ on the drinking until after he gets back from the store, because they won’t survive the night without ice cream and wine, apparently. He doesn’t complain or put up a fight, however, because his mother asked him to do it and Louis will do it no matter what.

Once he’s helped clean up, he puts his sneakers back on, takes his phone, keys and his mother’s credit card (as much as he loves her, he won’t pay for her nightly craving) and heads for the store. The same old car they’d left here so many years ago is still here, and it actually starts. The drive down feels familiar, having done it a thousand times before, and still feels familiar even after all this time. It looks different, more renovated and modern than it used to. There’s more people now; Louis remembers coming to Bonnet and there not being as many people. But then again, he was a kid when they came, now he’s twenty eight years old and the place feels not only new, but smaller, and more crowded.

While the drive to the store is familiar, the store itself is not. At all. Everything seems different, or maybe Louis just doesn't remember it. He wanders around aimlessly for a bit before finally finding the ice cream and even picking up an extra bottle of vodka. Just for himself. He’ll slip his mother the cash for it later.

 

[Back](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKNxeF4KMsY) at the house, Louis puts the bag on his arm so he can use both hands to tap out a text to Zayn and relay information about how Bonnet has changed.

“Oh shit,” someone’s saying suddenly. “You probably shouldn’t walk and text, that’s not going to end well for you. Or your… vodka?”

Louis looks up, greeted by a young man in a hoodie and shorts and earbuds in his ears. He tugs one out, still bouncing in place. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stop you,” Louis apologizes, looking at the man carefully.

“Oh _shit.”_ the man says again. Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Louis?”

Everything shifts into place. The gears move, the sun rises, all seems right in the world. _Harry Styles._ “Fuck,” Louis mutters. Recognizing him sends a shock through Louis, recognizing this boy that he hasn’t seen in eight years is something Louis can hardly believe.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, at the same time that Harry asks the same question. They both laugh, bubbly and nervous. “I’m on holiday. Lottie’s graduated uni.”

Harry’s eyes go wide. They look exactly the same as they did when he was younger, Louis remembers Harry’s token green eyes very well. It’s been so long but Louis still remembers what Harry’s eyes look like. “Uni, huh?” Harry muses. “Gemma’s got kids.”

Louis’ own eyes almost pop out of his head. “No!”  
“Swear it. We’re here because she wanted to bring the baby to Bonnet just like we did when we were little. She won’t remember much, she’s only like ten months old. But the older one, Jacob, he’ll remember. He’s three.”

“I’m… wow. I, uh, don’t want to keep you from your run.” Louis says awkwardly. “We’ll be here for quite awhile, so… I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Harry nods, an awed look on his face like he can’t believe he just ran into Louis. “Yeah, definitely.”

With that, he starts away. Louis shakes himself, walking into the house. He hides the bottle of vodka in his room before giving his mother her credit card and the ice cream. “Saw you talking to someone out there, who was it?” she asks, opening the tub of ice cream the second Louis hands it to her.

“Were you spying on me?”

“No. I just happened to look. Who was that?”

“It was, uh. Harry, mum. It was Harry.”

Jay stops scooping her ice cream and looks at her son, eyes wide. “ _Styles,_ Harry?” They’re here?”

Louis nods. “Gemma’s got kids.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“Nope. Not in the slightest. Gemma Styles is married with children. They’re back here for family vacations now with her kids.”

Jay’s mouth falls open, shocked. She peers out the kitchen window to where the Styles house sits, just across the small wooden boardwalk to the beach. A short walk. An even shorter run if you’re Harry and Louis playing games. “I’m going to have to go over and say hi! I haven’t seen Anne in years, and Facebook wall posts _don’t_ count.”

“I… I never said they did?”

Louis hasn’t spoken to Harry in years, hasn’t physically seen him since their last summer here together. Because even though by some miracle they ended up both being from relatively close towns in England, things don’t always work out. They gradually just… drifted apart. Louis almost completely forgot about the experience - because that’s what his relationship with Harry was; an experience - because it’d been so long. Louis went from a young and adventurous eighteen year old in love to a twentysomething year old with a job in a big city and forever nowhere on his mind. Harry Styles had different plans.

“You gonna be alright?” Jay asks, looking at Louis with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Louis knows where he gets his mischief from, without a doubt.

Louis nods. “I’m gonna be fine. It’s good to see them again, I guess.”

Jay hums. “You might wanna take it easy around him. Harry, I mean. After the whole dating thing when you guys were younger.”

“ _Mum.”_ Louis groans, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bring that up. Oh my god. It’s-we’re old now.”

“Oh, baby, you are not old. Twenty eight is not old. I’m old. You’re not old.”

Louis leaves her before the conversation can get any further, because he really can’t take that right now. He heads outside, where Dan has started a fire and the girls are gathered around, talking and laughing with each other. Louis pulls up a seat next to Lottie.

“How does it feel to be a uni graduate?” Louis asks her, draping his leg over the arm of his chair.

Lottie shrugs. “Already got a job with a stylist. She’s gonna train me, so that’s good.”

Louis is impressed by that. It took him forever to find a school to work at that he liked, where the boss wasn’t a dick. Finally he ran into Liam at a bar in the city and he hooked him up at the place where he worked. But it took a long time, a lot of struggling and worry and getting drunk on Wednesday nights because he convinced himself that there was no way he’d ever succeed.

“I just hope you didn’t party too hard over there. And don’t do it once you’re proper on your own either. Because then you get used to it and you become a borderline alcoholic.”

Lottie laughs. “You know that from personal experience, don’t you?”

“That I do, Lots. That I freakin’ do.”

She laughs again. They don’t say anything for a moment, Lottie staring off somewhere Louis can’t quite find. Then, she says, “Is that Harry Styles?”

Louis finally finds where she’s looking, across the yard and the walkway to the beach where two people are walking over, one of which is _definitely_ Harry Styles and the other can only be his mother, Anne.

“That’s Harry,” Louis replies, nodding.

“ _Shit!”_ she exclaims, laughing. “That’s gonna be a problem for you, isn’t it?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m a grown man, Charlotte. With a job and a bright future ahead of me. I can handle myself. I don’t even feel anything anymore, not for him, we were just kids.”

Lottie just hums, not saying anything further on the topic. Louis’ thankful she decides to give him a break. Jay gets up to greet Harry and Anne, stopping them from getting to the rest of the family for a solid five minutes. Anne and Jay disappear inside, to get drinks, probably, while Harry says hi to each of the girls in turn.

He stops at Lottie, sending Louis a grin. “Congrats on getting through uni, Lots.” Harry says.

“Thank you! So good to see you again, I can’t believe you guys are here too,” Lottie laughs, sitting down again.

Harry looks at Louis expectantly. “I’m not giving you a hug, Styles.” Louis drones. “I’ll get you a chair, but I will not give you a hug.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll just take the chair.”

Louis gets up and grabs another from the deck, hurrying back down to the fire. He debates where to put the chair before deciding on putting it next to his own. “This is a nice fire,” Harry notes, resting his chin on his hand.

“Thanks, built it myself,” Louis brags, and Lottie scoffs beside him.

Harry looks over at him. “I can tell when you’re lying. This is Dan’s fire, isn’t it?”

“How could you tell?”

“It’s the fire of a _real_ man.”

Louis laughs, throwing his head back and everything and _God_ it’s embarrassing. “I’ll have you know, I’ve gotten much better at making and keeping fires over the past few years.”

Harry nods slowly, looking amused. They’re staring at each other for too long, Louis can tell. He’s sure of that. Finally, the sound of his mother’s voice gives him a reason to look away from Harry. Jay and Anne are coming down with two drinks each.

“Got enough to drink there, mum?” Louis asks teasingly.

Jay rolls her eyes at him, extending one of the glasses out to him. “One of them is for you, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know.”

“Oh, mummy, thank you!” Louis exclaims, taking a small sip from the drink and almost moaning in contentment.

When he looks at Harry again, he’s got a drink in his hand too and he’s already looking at Louis. “What’re you drinking?”

“Wine,” Harry replies. Louis laughs, shaking his head. “What? Why’re you laughing?”

“Of course you’re drinking wine. That’s just… very like you.” Louis shrugs.

When Harry was younger he always asked his mum for a glass of wine before he asked his dad for a beer and when they had their last summer here and they went to parties that Niall threw, and Harry always turned down the beer. He took the cocktails, the vodka, but never the beer and never the whiskey.

“And what are _you_ drinking that’s so much better than my wine?”

“Fireball, actually. Better than your wine by a mile.”

“You are _not_ drinking straight fireball. You can’t handle straight fireball, I don’t think.”

“I’m a grown man, Styles, I know what I can handle. And, for the record, you’re right. It’s not straight fireball. Mum mixes it with cream soda and makes it really good.”

“Your mummy makes you drinks, huh?” Harry muses, massive smirk on his face like he’s proud of himself for poking fun at Louis.

“Harry.” Louis deadpans. “Your mother brought you a drink as well.”

Harry’s smart-ass look is immediately wiped from his face. “Lou,” Jay says, leaning forward. “Why don’t you go play footie with your sisters or something?”

Louis really doesn’t feel like doing that. He slouches in his chair and starts fake snoring immediately, without even thinking about it. “You’re such a drama queen,” Harry remarks. Louis flips him off, and Harry grabs his hand and shoves it down. “There are _children_ around,” Harry hisses, keeping Louis’ hand pressed to his thigh.

He claims his hand back, looking at Harry carefully. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you when I saw you earlier. You look different.”

“I don’t blame you. I hardly recognized you either, honestly.” Harry admits, looking across the fire at Lottie, who is deep in conversation with Fiz. “The girls are all grown up now, huh? They’re all very pretty.”

“Don’t go hitting on my sisters now,” Louis warns jokingly.

“You know very well that’s not what I’m into,” Harry laughs. It’s more of a giggle, something soft and small and childlike. Louis’ instinctually endeared. “Lottie’s graduated uni, huh?”

“Makeup or summat. I think Gems takes the cake, though. Married _and_ kids? That’s insane. She’s my age. I’m nowhere near married and kids with anybody,” Louis laughs, sinking further into his chair.

“What… um, what are you doing? Like, what do you do?”

“I went to uni and got a teaching degree. I’m teaching music and drama at a school in New York now. Entirely boring. What about you, Styles? What’re you doing?”

“Singing, actually. Well, kind of. It’s--”

“No fuckin’ way!”

Harry shrugs like it’s not that big of a deal. “Small gigs and stuff. Still have another job back home, but it’s cool. I do covers and originals sometimes. I got one here at the pub, playing Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays for the summer.”

Louis still writes songs sometimes too, though he keeps this detail to himself. This feels natural to him, talking to Harry like this. It feels like eight years haven’t passed somehow, and everything is still normal.

“You run?” Louis asks, suddenly _really_ wanting to keep conversation going.

“It’s good to stay in shape. I run in the morning most of the time. Maybe you should join me,” Harry suggests.

“Yeah, sure, Styles. Whatever you say.” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Think about it. Couldn’t hurt to get in shape.”

“Hey!” I am in shape!” Louis exclaims, sitting up abruptly.

“That summer bod is just _calling_ your name,” Harry winks.

Louis rolls his eyes in reply and downs the rest of his drink. This is going to be a long vacation.

  ** _****_**

“I don’t think Harry’s changed one bit,” Jay says, sitting down next to Louis on the couch. It’s after eleven, the little kids are in bed and Harry and Anne had ventured home long ago. Louis couldn’t bear sitting outside any longer and refused the bug spray earlier on in the evening. (He’s a man of pride and couldn’t bring himself to take it later on). “He does have an awful lot of tattoos, though.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

“I know,” she replies, rubbing Louis’ arm. “I spoke with Anne, she says Harry’s been singing.”

“I know.”

“Still that same boy we met when we first came here. What’d you talk to him about tonight?”

Louis shrugs, slouching further and resting his head on her shoulder. “Just played catch up. Haven’t seen him in eight years. Haven’t talked to him in like… Six? Seven?”

Jay nods, grabbing Louis’ hand in her own. It’s good to see her again, be able to talk to her like this again. Living in New York is hard sometimes, and Louis’ always been close with his mum. They text daily and speak on the phone at least two times a week. “They’ll be coming over for dinner tomorrow night, burgers and salads and the works. I trust you’ll be civil?”

“We grill _every_ night we’re out here. I swear one summer I lived purely off of hot dogs.”

“Oh, stop it,” his mother laughs. “You're ridiculous.”

“Am I, though? All we ever eat here is shit off the grill.”

“Are you complaining that I’m feeding you?” his mother asks, sounding scandalized. “Because I can gladly _not_ give you a plate tomorrow evening if that’s what you really want.”

Louis gets up, having had enough with the interrogation and wanting to avoid anything further. “I’m gonna head on up to bed,” he says, trying to take his hand from hers.

“You do have an awfully large amount of tattoos, don’t you?” she murmurs, looking at Louis’ arm carefully. Finally, she looks up at him and releases his hand. “Love you, boo.”

“I love you to, _mummy,”_ he exaggerates, kissing her on the forehead and heading upstairs.

While he’s washing up in the bathroom, Fizzy comes and leans in the doorway. “ _So_ ,” she drawls. Louis braces himself. “Are you happy to be here?”

He puts his toothbrush in its designated spot and turns to look at her. “I mean, yeah. It’s nice to have a change of scenery. Not have to sit in that god-awful school. Was gonna get a summer job, but with Liam at the label, since that’s really what I’d rather be doing with my life, but it’s fine. I think I’d rather be here anyways.”  

“Does mum know how successful her eldest son is becoming?”

“No. She’ll find out, she has a habit of digging into my business as it is, so.”

Fizzy laughs. “She’s been riding you about Harry, yeah?”

Louis groans, leaning against the sink. “We’ve literally been here for, like, two days and she thinks she’s some goddamn all knowing matchmaker or something. It’s so annoying.”

“She does it to Lottie and I, too. Plus she knows Harry. Like really _knows_ him, yeah? Ever since we were all kids. She knows how… involved you two were. And now we're all back here and she cares, alright? That's it.”

“I hope she knows that nothing’s going to happen. Yeah, we’re back. But we’ve grown up and moved on. We wanted different things,” Louis shrugs, folding his arms over his chest.  

“I never said anything was going to happen. I’m just wondering why you're ruling it out.”

“Like I said. We’re different people, that's all. Older now.”

“More mature. Have a better grip on things. Can actually do things for yourselves.”

“Listen,” Louis groans, rubbing his chin. “Can you just… not play matchmaker like this? Jesus, you sound like mum. I don't need you to set shit up or stick your nose in or hover. For the love of God, don't.”

Félicité crosses her arms over her chest, pouting. “Fine. Jesus, I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy. I’m perfectly happy. You guys are the ones who jumped to conclusions and whatever else. It’s nothing, Nothing’s happening.”

 

At 7:02 a.m., Louis steps out onto the small balcony outside of his room to smoke a cigarette. Louis has always particularly enjoyed his room at the home. Located at the back of the house, he has a beautiful view of the lake on the balcony. Getting this room was a bribery tactic to convince him to continue coming to the house without a fight as Louis got older. His mother figured a nice, private place would make him want to keep going. It worked, even if Louis hates to admit it.  

While he stands and smokes, a shape comes into view down by the water. It takes him only a minute to realize it’s Harry, on that morning run he mentioned yesterday. From here, Louis can tell that his hair has been pulled back, he’s wearing shorts that fit his thighs, Nikes on his feet.

Harry catches a glimpse of Louis, and he slows down and waves, a grin plastered on his face. Louis waves back. Once Harry’s gone, he turns and heads back inside.

As soon as his sisters wake up, all hell breaks loose. When his mother comes downstairs around nine, she immediately starts _cooking._

“What the hell are you doing?” Louis asks, taking a piece of tomato as she continues cutting it. “Are we eating burgers for breakfast?”

“No,” Jay rolls her eyes, swatting his hand away when he goes in for another piece. Louis frowns. “I just want to get this finished. Cooking here always ends up being an all day affair, especially when it’s for so many people. You know that.”

“How many people, exactly?”

“Anne and Robin, Harry. Gemma and her husband. Matt, I believe his name is. And their little babies. A lot of people, a lot of food. Care to help?”

Louis hums, considering it. “Eh, not really.”

“I figured. Why don’t you go outside with your sisters, then? Maybe play footie with Ernie? They’re all already heading for the water.”

Louis really, truly admires their ability to get at it so fast. They haven’t even had breakfast yet - scarfing down a poptart on their way out the back door doesn’t really count. But, then again, he’s not really one to talk. His breakfasts are typically anything but nutritious. He heads out and does all the things he knows his mother would love for him to do. He plays footie with Ernest and the bigger twins when they decide to join in. He messes around with Doris, tossing her into the water where Lottie and Tommy are already waiting to tickle her even more.  

Time seems to take ages under the Rhode Island sun, but it’s after one when Louis takes a seat in one of the beach chairs (he needs a break) and ensures that none of the girls drown in the lake from the comfort of his chair.

He almost, _almost_ dozes off until Daisy calls his name. “What?” he calls back, pushing his sunglasses further up on his nose.

“Go tell mum that Anne and Harry are on their way over.”

Louis looks towards the Styles’ house, where Harry and Anne are, in fact, leaving. Why does this much preparation need to go into food? He gets up and jogs up to the house. “I’ve been told to inform you that Harry and Anne are on their way over here.”

“Oh, are they? I wasn’t expecting them so soon,” she says, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Alright, hopefully they’re coming over to help rather than chat.”

“Of course we’re here to help. Have you gone mad since the last time we were here?” Anne asks, shutting the back door behind her.

While his mother is occupied talking to Anne and Harry, Louis reaches into the bag of tortilla chips sitting open from one of the twins and starts eating. He has to hold himself over until dinner _somehow._ Harry’s changed from his morning run outfit, he notices. Now in a pair of skinny jeans (it's kind of warm, even Louis is wearing shorts. How is Harry doing it?) and a loose fitting patterned shirt. Half of the buttons are undone, and only Harry Styles would wear a shirt like that.

“You'll ruin your dinner, you know.” Harry remarks, taking a chip for himself.

“And you sound like my mum when you talk like that.”

Harry laughs. “I didn't think I’d see you up so early. You should have joined me.”

“I’ll pass. So, what are you here to help with?”

“Gonna bake, actually. If there's enough room to do that in here.”

“Bake,” Louis deadpans. “You're going to bake what, exactly?”

“Cupcakes. Wanna help?”

 

Much sooner than he expected, Louis is standing side by side with Harry as they make a batch of cupcakes.

“Please stop sticking your fingers in the batter,” Harry begs.

Louis does it again, just because he knows it’s pissing Harry off. “It's good.”

“I know, but now you’ve stuck your fingers in it five times—”

“I washed my hands before we started. And I've been dipping a different finger in every time! I'm not some barbaric slob, Harold. Between all of my fingers, I get ten dips.”

“How are the cupcakes coming, boys?” Jay asks, coming between them. Until his mother steps in, Louis hadn’t realized how close he and Harry were standing. He takes another step away for good measure.

“I think you need to tell Louis to stop eating all the batter. There won’t be any cupcakes to eat.”

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” Louis grumbles.

Louis’ evening really kicks off when Dan decides it’s time to pour drinks. The assortment is set up in the corner of the kitchen. Louis lets the parents get their drinks before stepping in for his own. He hears Lottie and Tommy telling Jay that it’s perfectly acceptable for them to have drinks, and knows that she’ll probably give in. Louis grabs a cup and stares at the options. Vodka, rum, fireball whiskey. Louis clucks his tongue, deciding what he wants to mix tonight.

“Tough decision?” Harry asks, coming up behind Louis. “I’m no professional foodie, but I don't think alcohol goes nicely with cupcakes.”

Louis snorts. “I don't go for taste, I go for enjoyment.”

“I’m not sure that even makes sense. How could you _enjoy_ something that tastes bad?”

“You’re misunderstanding. You don't do it for the _taste_ , you do it for the _effect_. Here,” Louis reaches and grabs the bottle of vodka. There aren't any shot glasses, so Louis just takes two of the red solo cups and hands one to Harry. He pours the slightest bit of vodka into each cup. “It's not a shot glass, but… bottoms up.”

Harry stares hard at the cup. “What?”

“Vodka. Knock it back, kid. Let's go.”

Harry gives Louis a wary look this time, to which Louis moves to drink. Harry mirrors him, and they do it together. Louis tips his head forward again just in time to see Harry’s reaction to the drink: disgust. “I can't believe you just made me do that. I haven't done vodka shots in forever. Now I know why.”

“See? It's unpleasant at first, but that's what's gonna get you drunk. Let me make you a drink?”

Louis whips up two concoctions and gives one to Harry. It has a much better taste than the vodka, Harry tells him, and Louis should never make him do that again. “What took you two so long?” Anne asks as they finally come outside. “Didn't realize it took that long to make some drinks.”

“Louis had me doing irresponsible things, mum. Awful things.” Harry pouts, dropping onto the couch and cuddling up to his mother like he's still six years old.

“What’d you make him do, Lou?” Jay demands.

“He's overreacting. I don't know what _you're_ expecting it to be. We drank some vodka, that's all. One shot of it.”

The evening passes by in jokes and too many Louis-made drinks. He makes himself and Harry three, with a shot of vodka in between the second and third. Now Jay and Dan are getting the girls in bed while Anne and Robin have slipped off somewhere Harry can't quite recall (Louis keeps telling him that they're hooking up down on the dock where nobody else can see, but Harry is utterly repulsed by the idea).

They're sat on the couch on the deck next to each other now, legs touching and arms touching and giggling over nothing in particular. Something about it strikes Louis in a certain way, it feels natural. It feels like it did when they were younger.

“Do you still love the ocean?” Louis asks. He remembers that Harry loved the ocean. Every aspect of it, the look, the sound, what was beneath the surface.

Louis looks over at the boy expectantly. Finally, Harry hums, nodding his head. “Only because it reminds me of you.”

“ _What?”_ Louis gasps, sitting up a bit. He feels a bit of his drink splash onto his leg, but doesn't do anything about it.

“It reminds me of you,” Harry says simply, shrugging. Louis feels like his brain has been thrown into the ocean. He feels like he's swimming. Or, drowning, maybe.

“What do you mean?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m drunk.”

Louis is quite glad he’s drunk as well.

 _you are the habit  
_ _i will spend a lifetime  
_ _trying not to break.  
_ _-tyler knott gregson_

Harry Styles gets onstage with his guitar slung over him, and jumps right into _Where Do Broken Hearts Go._ He puts his all into it, just like always, and basks in the applause the pub audience gives him.

“Okay,” he says, clearing his throat. “That was called _Where Do Broken Hearts Go._ I wanna thank you all for coming tonight, whether you knew I was going to be here or not. I suppose my performances aren’t half as boring as I think they are,” he laughs. The audience laughs as well, a few people shouting words of encouragement. “I’m gonna sing a few more songs and then Niall and Liam will get up here and annoy the hell out of you with a Karaoke rendition of _Waterfalls.”_

While Harry sings a cover of _Castle on the Hill_ by Ed Sheeran, he doesn’t necessarily feel like he’s there, onstage. It feels natural to him, the guitar and the lyrics and everything, but he’s thinking back to one summer day at Bonnet.

_Harry stands far away, just listening to the conversation. Yeah, he’s eavesdropping. Sue him._

_“Do you like him too? Because you know he does.” Liam’s asking, looking at Louis. “Are you gonna do something about it?”_

_Louis is sitting cross-legged on the rocks, with a bottle of beer in front of him. He fidgets with it, clearly nervous or uncomfortable or maybe both. “I don’t know,_ Lime. _Are you going to butt out of my business?” Louis answers rudely at first, but Harry watches his expression soften as he shrugs. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Because I think the second I say something, it’ll ruin everything.”_

_Liam scoffs. “Lou, you've got that kid wrapped around your finger. I don't think you could ruin it even if you tried.”_

 

Harry finds himself back in the little bar after his dazed and distracted eyes land on a very familiar and attractive face – Louis. Louis, standing off to the side at a tall table by himself with a glass of beer. Louis, who is coincidentally Harry’s long lost love affair. Louis, who has coincidentally turned up at Bonnet Shores this summer. Louis.

He kind of… floats through his final songs, which is something that's never really happened to him before. Usually Harry is present and dedicated and paying the utmost attention during all of his performances. But seeing Louis really throws him for a bit of a loop.

The second Harry gets offstage, Harry finds himself heading off to find Louis. He’s still at the same table, scrolling through his phone. “You found your way here, huh?” Harry says conversationally, leaning opposite Louis.

Louis looks up, seeming surprised when he sees Harry standing there. “Yeah, I did. Lottie convinced me to come, but she ditched me when you got onstage. Her and Tommy snuck off somewhere, I think.”

Harry smiles. “You didn't have to come. But I’m glad that you did.”

“I’m impressed, Styles. You wrote those songs?”

“I write most of them, yeah.”

Louis nods, looking at Harry carefully. “I’m highly impressed, Styles. You’re doing well.”

Harry feels himself blushing with the complement. “Well, thanks for that. I’m really glad you came. It’s nice to have somebody you know in the audience. Mum and Gems don’t always come because… well, because sometimes I don’t want them to.”

“Oh, really. Can I buy you a drink?” Louis asks, glancing between Harry and the bar briefly. “Beer? Cocktail? Shots?”

“Cocktail sounds good. Surprise me.” Harry winks. “I appreciate it.”

Louis heads off towards the bar and leaves Harry in his own head. He can’t believe Louis actually _came_ to see him sing. Harry’s glad he picked a good set of songs to perform, this way he impressed Louis. Louis, who is coming back with a tray of shots in his hand and a drink in the other.

“Strawberry daiquiri, but shots, too. Which first?” Louis asks, setting the shots and daiquiri down on the table.

“How’d you know I’d want a daiquiri?” Harry asks, taking a small sip from the drink.

Louis shrugs, handing Harry a shot. “Ready, Styles?”

They go at the same time, Harry immediately using his cocktail as a chaser. Louis doesn’t touch his beer or even reach for Harry’s daiquiri, just takes his straight shot and sits down opposite Harry. He looks different, older but somehow still young. Louis is probably the prettiest man Harry’s ever met, even after all these [years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyVS2N8aK-U).

“Is this your first time back?” Louis asks, delicate hands wrapping around his glass.

Harry shakes his head. “No, we came a few years ago but only for a few weeks. Are you guys staying the whole summer?”

“Looks like it.” Louis nods, sounding reluctant in the way he says it.

“You have a different plan?”

Louis shrugs. “I’ve got a job back in New York but it’s got the summers off, when usually requires me getting a summer job. This kind of prevents me from getting a summer job.”

“You could be a bartender,” Harry suggests, looking around the bar. “I’m sure they’re hiring.”

Louis throws his head back and groans. “I don’t _wanna_ do a job like that.”

“What the fuck were you expecting to get back in New York? You’re a drama teacher or whatever, right?”

Louis nods. “I’m a music and drama teacher at a city school. And back in New York I would’ve bullied Liam into getting me a job at the small label he works at for the summer. At least that’s something enjoyable.”

Harry isn’t surprised by Louis’ career choice. He was always musically inclined, and when he and Harry would talk about their futures, Louis always mentioned the possibility of working something in music. He’s twenty eight now, and is definitely the most popular teacher in that school.

“You’re a phenomenal songwriter, Haz. I’m really, really impressed.”

“I, um,” Harry pauses, takes a sip of his drink. “I know you write too. Or you used to, anyways, but you were pretty damn good. Would you mind taking a look at some of the stuff I’ve written? I’m stuck on a few songs.”

Louis nods immediately, handing Harry the second shot glass. “Gladly, Styles.”

Harry does his second shot without taking his eyes off Louis, but doesn’t do that purposely. It happens sometimes. Louis is just someone Harry feels the need to watch. Like if he looks away, there’ll be a stellar collision that will be too beautiful to miss.

“I can’t get smashed tonight,” Louis says, right after he finishes the rest of his beer. _That means he won’t stay at the bar._ “I’ve got to babysit Lottie and Tommy a little bit, so.”

Harry pouts. “No getting drunk then?”

“Harry Styles, don’t look at me like that!” Louis laughs. “Fucking puppy dog eyes. You–”

Louis cuts off suddenly, upon seeing Lottie make her way to the table. Harry immediately stands up to greet her. “I’m so glad we came out to see you!” she exclaims, hugging him tightly. “My shit-for-brains older brother actually remembered that you were playing tonight, I was impressed. By both you and him.”

“Thanks, Lots. That means a lot, I’m really happy you guys were here.” Harry smiles. He means it, so genuinely he can hardly even believe it himself. He’s endlessly glad Louis and Lottie and her boyfriend were here for this, and not just because Louis is _Louis_ and Harry still longs to impress him. He’s happy they’re here because Harry loves that they’re back in Bonnet, it feels like they’ve been given the opportunity to rekindle friendships and everything they had over the years when they came here.

“You know I can see you looking at him, right?” Lottie says pointedly, right in Harry’s ear so Louis can’t hear them; although it’s not like Louis is paying attention anyways, Tommy is there and they’re talking about something entirely different now. Harry gives Lottie a funny look, even though he knows exactly what she’s talking about.

“Even after all this time, huh?” she asks.

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. It’s probably just a nostalgia thing.”

Lottie scoffs, looking at Harry amusedly. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind. I’m watching you, Styles.”

“Okay, Tomlinson. If you say so,” Harry teases her right back, just like they used to do.

Falling back into step with the Tomlinsons seems almost effortless, despite the fact that they’re older and so many things have changed (like the fact that Gemma has _kids)._ They spent so many summers together that they know each other in and out, even after all this time. Harry knows just how to make Lottie laugh and how Jay likes her tea and how to make Louis squirm. He still remembers the times the four parents would go out for a night on the town and leave Louis, Gemma, and Harry in charge of the little Tomlinsons. During his last summer here, when Louis was nineteen-going-on-twenty, they’d find themselves sneaking off to make out and leaving Gemma with the littles.

As effortless as it is, Harry does find the process quite painful, purely because of Louis. Things just fizzled out between them, as distance and uni can lead to, but Harry’s always held a special place in his heart for Louis. A special place that still longs to hold him, still longs to pick up the phone and call, still longs for _Louis_ to be the one to call and say, “hey, I think we should give it another try”. Harry loves him, it’s as simple and as complex as that.

********

Harry jumps on the opportunity to take Gemma’s two little ones down the beach to wade in the water and play in the sand. He urges Gemma and Matt to relax, that he can handle the two kids. Three-year-old Jacob and ten-month-old Kate are no problem Harry Styles can’t handle. Plus, he loves babies, so.

Jacob talks to him the whole way down about how much fun he’s having at the house and how he really, _really_ wants to find sea turtles. Harry promises that they’ll look for sea turtles, and he keeps his doubts to himself. When they get to the prime piece of beach, right in front of the dock, right in front of the Tomlinson’s house, Harry sits down in the sand with Kate while Jacob sets to digging in the sand. Harry holds both of Kate’s hands and helps her take little baby steps across the sand, until she just plops down and plays with the sand in front of her.

Harry leans back on his hands and watches the two, pushing away thoughts of how he wishes he had his own babies. For now he’ll take Jacob and Kate and savor in it.

“These are Gemma’s little monsters?” a voice, unmistakably Louis’, is asking suddenly, coming up behind Harry without notice.

Harry turns around to look up at him. Louis’ wearing a pair of swim trunks with no shirt on and sunglasses perched on his nose. Louis sits down next to him in the sand, leaning back on his hand. “My family’s coming out, the girls want to go swimming and jet skiing and whatnot, so it's about to get a hell of a lot louder out here.”

Almost on cue, music starts playing from a radio somewhere up on the deck. “Yeah, these are Gemma’s babies,” Harry says finally, watching Jacob try to hold a handful of seashells without dropping any. “Jacob and Kate.”

“Kate?”

“Short for Katelyn, probably somewhat inspired by Princess Kate.” Harry smiles. “They’re cute. And I think she might want more, too. So that’s great.”

“You love babies, don’t you?” Louis asks, gasping playfully when Kate looks up at him with wide eyes and makes grabby hands at him. “Hi, love!” he exclaims, reaching over Harry’s knee and picking Kate up.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry replies, voice sounding like a mere echo as he’s caught up in watching Louis play with Kate. “She’s really taking to you, normally she doesn’t take to strangers so quickly.”

Louis beams. “It’s my undying charm and incredible wit. Even babies can’t fight it,” he says it automatically, like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to praise himself so much that he rehearsed it.

Harry knows everyone is rendered helpless in Louis’ presence. Louis is the sun. Everybody else is just orbiting around him, everyone else is falling in love. Young Kate and Harry’s mum and Harry and everyone in Bonnet are falling in love with Louis all over again.

“Right, it’s your undying charm and incredible wit,” Harry echoes. “She loves you, she can’t stop smiling.”

“Or she’s taking a massive dump in her diaper and _that’s_ why she’s so happy.” Louis glances over at Harry, which only prompts Harry to look away.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why,” Harry says sarcastically, just playing along with Louis. He’ll always play along with Louis, no matter what. They’re still partners in crime whether Louis knows it at the moment or not.

“You play the pub again tomorrow?” Louis asks. Harry looks back over at him in time to see Kate wrapping her tiny hands around Louis’ dainty fingers. Louis isn’t looking at Kate anymore, rather looking at Harry now, so Harry nods his head. “After wanna stick around and get smashed? I’m gonna convince Liam and Ni to come out as well.”

Harry laughs, glancing quickly at Jacob to make sure he’s not wandering too close to the water before looking at Louis yet again. If it were up to him, Harry would never stop looking at Louis. “That sounds brilliant, actually. Been awhile since I’ve gotten properly drunk.”

“When’s the last time you got ‘properly drunk’? Whatever that means.” Louis lets Kate step over his leg and go around his back.

Harry has a hard time formulating an answer while he watches Louis simply allow Kate to start pressing sand into his back without even protesting it. “I don’t drink often. Like, not pounding shots and grinding in the club. I’ll drink a beer after my set or have a drink when my mum makes them. I don’t get completely smashed all the time.”

“So when you do, I’d imagine it’s pretty wild?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I suppose we’ll see tomorrow night, won’t we?”

Louis laughs. “I’ll hold you to that, Styles.”

“What are you holding Harry to?” Lottie asks, sitting down next to Harry.

“Drinking bets, Lots. You in?” Louis looks at her, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

Lottie laughs. “I hope you’re not gonna try to get him to outdrink you. Because that’s just not good for Harry’s health, is it?”

Louis laughs, bright and loud and happy. “I wouldn’t do that to him. Harry, I would never ask you to enter a drinking competition with me. I know I’m far too skilled, and you would likely die before beating me.”

Harry looks at him in wonder. “How are _you_ not dead yet?”

“Miracles can happen, Harry Styles. Miracles _can_ happen.”

That is definitely true, Harry thinks to himself. Kate comes back around in front of Louis, beginning to pat the sand into his chest now. Miracles come in the form babies and family reunions and requited love and warm summer nights and good song lyrics and just enough gas to get home and Louis, yeah, miracles often come in Louis. It didn’t take Harry very long to learn that.

Bonnet always had a very strange dynamic for Harry when he came here. They didn’t start coming until he was twelve, and the Tomlinsons happened to be next door to the Styles. Louis and Harry spent time together, because they were some of the only boys their age in Bonnet. Plus, Louis was pretty, and Harry generally found himself gravitating towards pretty boys (even at such a young age). They were friends, good friends, even. But the days before boyfriends, those are the days Harry remembers as drab. He got up, he went out, he saw Louis and Liam and Zayn and Niall, then he went home again. He’d go to parties and get drunk and hook up with random girls because he was fourteen and he thought that's what he needed to do. And because he didn’t have Louis yet.

Then he fell in love with Louis, and those things weren't as mechanical and boring. Days with Louis in them seemed to entirely revolve around Louis, and Harry has a feeling he's not the only person who lived like that. Louis won every single person in Bonnet over.

********

[When](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0DjcsK_-HY) Louis Tomlinson shows up to the bar, Harry Styles is already on his way to being drunk. Or he’s already drunk, maybe, but he won’t admit it. Louis knows, though, it’s obvious he knows, because he starts laughing.

“Styles, you’re gone!” Louis exclaims, laughing as he sits down. Harry shakes his head, mouthing for the straw in his drink. “You know you’re gone, too.”

“No I’m-no I’m not,” Harry assures him, but a drunken laugh passes his lips and he knows his defense is lost in it. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Louis nods. “Where’s Liam and Ni?” he asks.

Harry shrugs. “They’re… around,” he says, making a vague motion with his hand. “What do you want to drink?”

“Surprise me, H.”

So Harry gets up, and he heads across the small dance floor to the bar. “Can I have…” he trails off, getting lost in the bartender’s face for a moment. “Can you surprise me?”

The bartender looks at Harry warily. He’s an attractive young man, and he’s acting like he knows it, because the wary look and attitude seems to switch and become a bit more flirty (or maybe Harry’s just drunk). (But he does need to get his mind off of Louis and his unrequited love, so maybe this bartender isn’t so bad). “Are you driving home?” Somewhat Attractive Bartender asks, leaning closer to Harry so their conversation can be heard over the sound of the music.

“ _Nope_ ,” Harry shakes his head. “Can I have a Surprise Me drink now? Something extra strong,” he winks, way overzealously, and kind of stumbles against the bar. Yeah, he’s drunk.

“Something extra strong. Sure, coming right up,” the bartender winks back at Harry, and Harry suddenly loses all interest.

The bartender gives Harry a larger scale drink and tells Harry to enjoy it, and that they’ll see each other around. When Harry gets back to the table, Niall and Liam are back and talking to Louis. It’s nice to see them all playing catch up. Harry admires for only a second before giving Louis his drink and dropping down into the booth next to him.

“This is my Surprise?” Louis asks, looking carefully at the drink.

Harry nods. “Bartender surprised _me,_ too. So we’re both being–” Harry cuts off suddenly, realizing that he forgot to give the bartender a tab or even cash right then and there. “I didn't pay for that drink.”

Louis laughs as he takes a sip. “What?”

Even Niall and Liam are looking at Harry skeptically. “I didn't pay for that drink,” Harry enunciates, as if that will make the three of them understand better.

“That means it was on the house,” Liam says slowly, confusedly. “Did the bartender tell you that?”

“He’s got the hots for ya,” Niall says simply, shrugging. “Did you flirt for that drink, Hazza?”

 _No_ he most certainly did not. Harry doesn't get handouts, he pays for everything. And the bartender never even said it was on the house. “You've never gotten a free drink before? I find that very hard to believe, Styles,” Louis remarks.

Harry angles his entire body to look at Louis challengingly. “Why’s that, Tomlinson?”

Louis shrugs, takes a big sip from the drink. “You’re an attractive twentysomething. Attractive men in their twenties get drinks bought for them,” he says it simply, as if it’s something he’d tell Liam or Niall or even any stranger he’d meet. Like it’s not a statement that makes Harry’s chest hurt because Louis’ saying this nice thing to him and they’re not what they used to be.

“That means you’ve had plenty of drinks bought for you, right, Tommo?” Niall laughs, loud and happy, clutching his beer bottle closer to his chest.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Sure, Nialler.”

Harry studies Louis carefully. He’s definitely had his fair share of drinks bought for him. Even when they were younger and going to house parties thrown by other teenagers in Bonnet for the summer, girls would bring Louis red solo cups filled with whatever fucked up concoction they were making that night or offer him the rest of their joint even though they must have been nowhere near finished. Harry saw people throw themselves at Louis like he was a fucking God, beauty and grace and strength all wrapped into one ordinary person on the East coast.

Liam kicks Harry’s shin suddenly, snapping him out of his drunken inner monologue. “ _You’re staring,”_ Liam mouths.

“ _Fuck off,”_ Harry mouths back, crossing his arms over his chest.

They drink and chat the night away, talking about any and everything that comes to mind. They talk about Ed Sheeran and political shit (civilly, of course) and place bets and take shots and Harry really, really gets plastered because it’s been so damn long since he’s actually done so. Liam and Niall sing karaoke, and Harry gets up as well, but Louis just watches the entire time. Harry sees him watching, the whole time, because Harry’s watching him as well.

When the clock hits one and the foursome finally decide it’s time to go, Harry and Louis head one way while Liam and Niall go the other.

“Y’had that guy flirting with you pretty hard tonight,” Louis points out, shoving his

hands in his pockets. He’s not stumbling or taking it slow while he walks, but Harry remembers Louis being excellent at covering up his intoxication. “You could’ve hooked up with him if you wanted to, you know. Niall, Liam, and I wouldn’t have minded.”

Harry shakes his head. “Nah. I’m celibate,” Harry says, only half-kidding. Pledging celibacy is a great way to excuse his lack of getting-laid.

Louis barks out a laugh that startles Harry just a bit. “Yeah, celibate. Laugh all you want.” Harry says firmly. “But I dunno… You know what I think is really sad?”

“What?”

“You’re never sure when someone’s in love with you. But the second they _stop_ loving you, it feels like somebody’s stabbing you or hitting you with a brick or summat.”

Louis stays silent. Harry’s too drunk to figure out what the hell he’s talking about or what to say next. So he just lets the silence hang heavy in the air, sounding like unsaid things and eight lost years and just anything _but_ silence.

“Me mum’s g’na kill me,” Harry says suddenly, once they reach his house. He tries to stop his words from slurring into each other but has no luck. “‘specially if I wake up the babies. I dunno if I’m more scared of my mum or Gems.”

“I’m pretty scared of both of ‘em, if I’m being honest with you.”

Harry laughs, leaning against the doorframe. “You can just leave me here. I’ll be fine, I can make it upstairs.”

“I’ll just bring you to your room. Come on,” Louis says softly, reaching for Harry’s hand. Their fingers brush, but Harry jerks away at the touch even though he doesn’t necessarily _want_ to. Harry swears there’s a shock when they brush, but he may just be really drunk. He doesn’t want to find out by touching Louis’ hand again, because once he does, he’ll never want to let go.

Louis leads the way, rather expertly, through the house and up to Harry’s room. They have to sneak down the hallways, feeling like they’re teenagers again, Louis sneaking in for the first time. Harry keeps that feeling to himself, because there’s a very slim chance that Louis is thinking or feeling the same thing. They seem to be playing different ballgames at this point, and Harry thinks it’s probably been like that for a long time.

Harry wakes up in the morning with little memory of how he got in bed, until he sees the note on his nightstand reading: _take advil asap, curly! that headache is gonna be a killer!_ Written in Louis’ scratchy handwriting.

 _i remember awakening  
_ _one morning and finding  
_ _everything smeared with the  
_ _color of forgotten love.  
_ _-charles bukowski_

Louis gets zero drinking recovery time. This is something he usually cherishes. When he drinks too much he always wakes up with a hangover, which he soothes with a shower and a cuppa and Advil and a hefty breakfast, in that specific order.

The rest of the family has already gone into town for grocery shopping, but Lottie (apparently) has stuck behind. She corners Louis in the kitchen while he’s waiting for the tea to be ready. That’s only step two in his four-step-recovery program. Louis is fucked. “What’d you do last night?” she asks, pushing herself up on the counter.

“Just went out with Liam and Ni.” Louis shrugs.

“And Harry.” she adds, smirking. She thinks she’s smart, she thinks she knows more than Louis knows about himself. She _doesn’t_.

“What were _you_ up to last night, Lottie? I was home late and I could’ve sworn I heard _something_ coming from your room-”

Lottie throws the nearest loaf of bread at him. “Stop deferring, Louis. You’re ridiculous. I’m just making conversation with you.”

 _Right._ “Lottie, I can't make it through the whole summer if you’re going to be like this.”

“Like _this?_ What do you mean?”

“I mean are you going to be able to stay out of my business? Like, ever? Will that ever be achieved? Privacy and independence? You and mum both.”

“You haven’t been independent a day in your life,” Lottie scoffs. “You’ve been a mummy’s boy since you were little. You’ve had her so involved in your life leading up until this point, she’s not going to stop now.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s so not true. I’ve always been independent. She just smothers. That’s what she does. You can’t spell _smother_ without _mother!”_

“You’re such an arse. She worries about you, she wants to see you happy.”

Louis knows that Lottie’s right, really. She’s completely correct in saying that Jay just wants Louis to be happy. But it drives Louis rather insane, all the meddling and the hovering and the interrogations.

But Jay does the same with her other children, especially Lottie and Tommy. Sometimes he thinks the grilling Jay gives to Tommy is worse than the ones Louis himself gets or gives, for that matter. Johannah is on fire and will push anyone aside with a finger to their cheek and leave a burn mark for ages. She raised each of her children to be the same way. Louis blames all stubbornness on his mother.

“God, I can't believe Gemma’s having kids. That’s kind of insane, isn't it?” Lottie asks, sounding genuinely blown away. _Now_ who’s changing the subject?

“I know. She’s my age and I’m nowhere near married, let alone kids.”

Lottie pushes herself off the counter and doesn’t really reply to Louis’ statement. She gives him a _look_ that Louis feels he knows all too well, and she leaves the kitchen. Louis gets his silence back, finally, and gets to drink his cuppa and eat his bagel and take his advil in peace. He heads out onto the back deck to soak in the silence of the lake house with the entire family gone. Louis’ silence is interrupted _again_ by another voice filling the yard.

“Hello?”

Louis frowns, turning to look and see where the voice is coming from. It’s Harry, coming around the side of the house. He’s wearing joggers and a sweatshirt that Louis swears he’s seen before. “Oh, there you are.” he says, coming only halfway up the steps to the deck. “I knocked when I passed by in front but nobody answered. I figured I’d come around back to see if you were out here is better than barging in.”

Lottie is inside, she should have opened the door. Unless she’s up to something. Which, knowing Lottie as well as he does, she’s definitely up to something. “Yeah, I suppose so,” Louis says finally. “Late start this morning?”

“I love but hate getting drunk like that. Probably shouldn’t get drunk like that.”

“I think you’re plenty fit and could probably only benefit from skipping a day of early morning running. A late start is _nothing._ ”

“ _You_ could benefit from joining me one day, maybe,” Harry says teasingly. Louis can tell that he’s teasing because he’s grinning impossibly wide and that means the cheeky dimple has popped out.

Louis looks down at his hands just to distract himself. “I told you, running isn’t my thing.”

“Well, what _is_ your thing, then? You keep fit somehow, obviously.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “Nothing above average in the gym. Sometimes. No arse-crack of dawn jogs, though. Do you, um, want a cuppa or something?”

“What? Oh, no thanks. I’m fine.”

“Then…. what’d you come here for?”

“Can I not just be a friendly neighbor? I just thought I’d stop by, but if you’re so desperate to bring me inside, I suppose I could stay awhile.”

Louis nods in approval, heading into the house without waiting for Harry. “I’ll get you a cuppa,” he decides. “Lots and I are the only two here, and God only knows how long the rest of them will be gone for. Should enjoy it while it lasts.”

He gets Harry a cup of tea and they sit on opposite ends of the couch, socked feet resting on the middle cushion between them. “I really came to apologize for last night,” Harry admits, wrapping his big hands tightly around the mug of tea. “I know I got totally drunk and I probably said or did some stupid shit. And you walked me home, too, so thanks for that.”

Louis laughs softly. Only Harry Styles would come and apologize for getting drunk. It wasn’t even like he was embarrassing; even when he was totally plastered Harry seemed to have some kind of morals and intuition and filter in place. “Don’t apologize for it. You didn’t even say anything _that_ stupid.”

“I did karaoke, didn’t I?” Harry cringes as he asks the question. “I-I think I remember getting up there and singing but I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

Louis laughs out loud, throwing his head back and everything. “Yeah, actually, you did. I remember that much. Think it was… _Hey Ya?_ The OutKast song?”

Harry rests his forehead on his knee, clearly completely embarrassed. “ _Oh._ Did I do anything else stupid?”

Louis’ memory of last night isn’t crystal clear either, but he does his best to piece it together for Harry’s sake. “I walked you home. Stayed until you fell asleep, because I think you might have asked me to and I was also far too dizzy to walk back down the stairs and over to my house. Probably should’ve stayed the night, you know, just in case you choked on your own vomit or something.”

“Oh, what a way to go,” Harry grins, that notorious dimple popping out.

Louis laughs off the feeling he gets in his stomach, switching the conversation topic quickly. They talk about anything they can think of – Gemma's kids, Lottie and Tommy, Liam and Niall, Louis’ job, Harry’s singing, workout routines and what's healthy and what isn't (Louis has a habit of being unhealthy, apparently). Lottie never comes and bothers them, but Louis suspects Tommy is still here and just hiding upstairs.

Around noon the door opens and the girls come rushing in. Harry and Louis’ cups of tea have gone cold amidst all of their conversation, but Louis finds himself feeling warm all over and he’s wondering if Harry feels the same way.

“Oh, Harry. Surprise seeing you here,” Jay says, kissing him on the head like it's natural.

“Yeah, I stopped by while I was on a run this morning just to say hi. Lou got me a cuppa. I should probably get back over there. Family time and all that.”

“Of course, love. You know you're welcome over here any time.”

“Thank you. I’ll probably see you all later, right?”

“We will all be here. Looking forward to it.” Jay says, bending down to help Ernest take his sweatshirt off. Louis didn’t think it was that cold out, but maybe it got warmer.

“I’ll take this,” Louis says, taking the mug from Harry’s hands and bringing it with him to the kitchen. “Um, nice of you to stop by.”

Harry grins. _That fucking dimple._ Louis can't help but smile back at him. “I’ll see you later, Lou.”

He's still smiling, even as Harry heads across the yard to his own house. “I've never seen you smile so big for so long,” his mother says softly, standing beside Louis at the sink.

Louis snaps out of it then, turning the sink on and beginning to wash the dishes in there. Anything to keep himself distracted. “I’m just smiling, mum. I haven’t spoken properly to him in years, it’s nice to catch up. Nothing’s happening, I wish you’d stop meddling.”

“I never said anything was happening, you just said that yourself. And, _that's_ what you said to me when you were sixteen years old,” she replies. “He makes you happy.”

“He's just easy to talk to. And he's still got a good head on his shoulders. And he's calm, not any of you chaotic monsters.”

“He's sweet. Still gets on great with the girls.”

Harry gets along well with nearly every single person he meets, Louis remembers this very well. He has a vague memory of attending a party hosted by one of their parents’ mutual friends and Harry, despite his young age, being a social butterfly. It might have been his sweet sixteen year old persona or his curls or maybe the dimples or the corny jokes or a combination of it all, but everybody loved Harry. That doesn't seem to have changed much.

“You can just tell,” Jay says suddenly. “With the way you look at him.”

“You can’t _tell_ anything. There’s nothing to tell.”

Jay doesn’t bother him again, she just leaves Louis to his thoughts; something that might be worse than actually talking to his mother about Harry. Because when Louis is left to his thoughts, he overthinks. It happens with anything, not just relationships. It happens with work and with his family and with plans. He’s an over-thinker, sue him. Louis overthinks while finishing the dishes, he overthinks while watching TV with Ernie and Doris, he overthinks while sitting alone on the balcony in his room.

Lottie interrupts him there. “Lou—oh. What're you doing?” she asks, standing in the doorway of the balcony. “Sitting here pouting? Typical of you, I suppose.”

“I’m not pouting, trust me. I’m anything but pouting.” Louis knows this is a lie. He’s pouting.

“You’re always pouting,” Lottie remarks, coming and sitting in the chair beside Louis. “What is it this time?”

“Mum’s making me overthink things.”

“Oh, about Harry?”

Louis gives her a funny look. “How’d you figure that one out?”

Lottie shrugs and sits in the chair next to him. “Mum and I were talking about it before. We’re wondering if you’re going to change anything about what happened between you and him. And wondering how long it’ll take him to fall in love with you again, and vice versa.”

“I wouldn’t have even been _thinking_ about that unless you brought it up,” Louis grumbles. “Why’d you have to bring it up like that?”

“Just to get you thinking about it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. His sister and his mother are always in on everything together, especially when it comes to meddling in Louis’ life. Between the two of them, they always manage to get information out of him. Louis knows it happens, he knows they’ve got him confessing, but he never knows how to stop it or avoid it because they’re so _good_ that he doesn’t even realize it’s happening.

It really poses a problem.

“Nothing can happen with us,” Louis tells her. This confessional is entirely intentional; he wants to set the record straight. “It didn’t work the first time and it won’t work now. We’re different people, we want different things. That’s why we stopped talking in the first place. Nothing good can possibly come from rekindling anything.”

Lottie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t make fun of him or say anything smart in reply. She just nods, and changes the subject. “Do you think you could get something for us?”

“If it’s drugs I unfortunately haven’t got a plug here anymore, sweet sister.”

Lottie reaches over and hits his arm. If Louis had a way, he’d already have joints stashed here in Bonnet. “Not _that._ But I do need you to get something.” she pauses, rather dramatically, and Louis arches his eyebrows at her. “Fireworks.”

Louis lets out a laugh. “Fireworks?”

“Yeah! We have to celebrate the Fourth of July!”

“Fireworks,” Louis says again. “I can do my best. Niall and Liam probably have a decent idea of where to get them around here.”

“I’m gonna guess they have a decent idea of where to get weed around here too?” Lottie asks curiously.

The answer to that question is yes, obviously, Niall’s always been good with his stashes, ever since Louis met him. He can get something from Niall to smoke easily. But he tells Lottie that he doesn’t know where to get weed, and neither does Niall. He also covers his ass and tells her that he wouldn’t smoke even if he had the means to, but Louis thinks Lottie might see right through him. If she does, she doesn’t say anything about it.

“So you can go get fireworks, right?” Lottie asks instead of saying anything else. Louis can tell she’s biting her tongue a bit, and he appreciates that very much, even though he won’t admit it.

Louis picks up his phone and scrolls for Niall’s contact without answering his sister verbally. “What’re you doing?” she asks as Louis raises the phone to his ear.

“Tommo!” Niall exclaims. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got a favor to ask you, Nialler,” Louis can’t help but grin the second Niall starts talking. He’s got an infectious mood about him. “Do you know where I can get my hands on some fireworks?”

“Yeah, you gotta drive over to Firework Connection. By Mount Hope Bay. Don’t you remember? We all went over that one summer you finally were allowed to drive here.”

“Are you _kidding me?”_ Louis groans, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. “I really didn’t want to drive over there, that’s like an hour away! There’s nowhere closer?”

Niall hums, considering it. “I dunno. I could ask around for you and get back to you in like an hour. But I’d prepare for a drive.”

Louis lights a cigarette, thanks Niall, and slouches in his chair once the phone call has ended. “Might have to drive to Firework Connection in Tiverton.You really want them that bad?”

Lottie groans, having the same initial reaction that Louis had. “The Fourth of July is _this Thursday_ , Lou. We need fireworks otherwise Ernie and Doris are gonna flip. You get to take the nice car out and go for a nice drive. I won’t even offer to come. I’ll let you go by yourself, or take someone of your choice. But _please.”_

“Niall’s asking around to see if anyone’s got any here in Bonnet. He’s getting back to me within the hour and if he doesn’t find anything, then I guess I’ll go this afternoon.”

“You’re my favorite older brother. Have I ever told you that before?” Lottie grins, patting Louis on the shoulder.

Louis laughs, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Only when you want shit from me.”

 

An hour and a half later, Louis is putting the windows down on the old car and making sure he’s got enough cash in his wallet when Harry Styles comes over. “Where are you going? [Escaping](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0ibBPhiaG0)?”

“Picking up fireworks in Tiverton. Unfortunately not escaping.”

“Ooh, fun. Can I come?”

And, that wasn’t exactly what Louis was thinking. The afternoon was going to be spent alone, but now Harry is offering to tag along and for some reason, Louis nods. “If you want to spend the next three hours driving and picking out fireworks, then sure.”

Harry opens the passenger side door and gets in, reaching and turning the radio on immediately. “Yeah, make yourself at home,” Louis says under his breath. Harry laughs, putting his seat belt on. “You’re going to be on GPS duty, alright? I don’t really remember how to get there.”

Harry pulls out his phone, putting in the location for Firework Connection in Tiverton and setting it in the cupholder as the GPS starts talking. They get on the road, and they hardly speak. Harry hums the words to almost every song that comes on the radio - from Bowie to Meghan Trainor. Louis gets lost in his head a bit, but he always comes back into Harry’s soft voice singing _Here Without You_ or _Love Story._

“Remember driving over here with Ni, Liam, and Zayn that one summer?” Harry asks suddenly. “I got sick on the car ride over, and I made you pull over so I could puke on the side of the road.”

Louis laughs, nodding. “I thought we’d have to bring you home, that you’d puke your stomach out. I felt bad for you, honestly.”

Harry shakes his head, rolling his window down and sticking his arm out into the wind. “I was entirely bummed about the fact that I lost my front seat privileges. I had to lay in the back with my head in Liam’s lap because you kicked me out of the front seat!”

“I didn’t want you hurling all over the front! You _knew_ if you puked in the front, I would too.”

Harry laughs delightfully. “You called yourself a sympathetic vomiter and I called you a liar. But then there was that one time Lots got sick on the boat, and you were sat right next to her. Then you threw up too! That’s when it clicked for me that maybe you weren’t shitting us about the sympathetic vomiter thing.”

Louis rests his arm on the door, rubbing at his chin in an attempt to get the grin off his face. It doesn’t really work all that well. “I can’t believe you didn’t believe that until I barfed on the damn boat.”

“You were a compulsive liar, Louis! How was I supposed to know you were telling the truth about _throwing up?”_

Louis gasps, scandalized. “I was _not_ a compulsive liar! I had a slight problem with telling little white lies but they were almost never harmful.”

Harry mutters something under his breath, but Louis lets it go. It’s not worth it, because Harry will likely win. Louis learned a very long time ago that arguing with Harry is no use - he’s either truly correct, or he makes you _think_ that he’s right. Louis is strong, but he’s not so strong as to resist Harry’s convincing _Here’s Why I’m Right And You’re Wrong_ speech.

Louis lets himself get lost in his thoughts again. The silence that fills the car isn’t uncomfortable like Louis was expecting it to be. It feels comfortable, he doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with half-hearted chatter about things that don’t matter. The radio is playing and they’re almost to Tiverton and Harry’s singing a bit louder than he was before as _Sunday Morning_ by Maroon 5 comes on.

“This song reminds me of Zayn,” Louis says absentmindedly.

Harry’s singing abruptly stops and he laughs. “Of _Zayn?”_

Louis nods. “Yeah. I remember him singing this all the time. He loved _Songs About Jane.”_

The chorus opens up again, not giving Harry to reply, as he trades it for singing loudly along. “Maybe all I need, in darkness she is all I see. Come and rest your bones with me, driving slow on _Tuesday afternoon.”_

Louis shakes his head in disapproval. “That really didn’t fit well, did it?” he asks, glancing over at Harry, who has the same kind of disproving look on his face.

“No, it didn’t. I’m a bit disappointed in that, to be quite honest.”

“Oh, baby, at least you tried,” Louis purrs. He pulls out a cigarette and lights up using one hand, which earns him a nervous and slightly critical glance from Harry.

“You didn’t quit? When I talked to your mum she said you were trying.”

“ _Trying._ ” Louis emphasizes. “Keyword. Trying.”

Harry rolls his eyes. They both, thankfully, choose not to press further on the subject as they get closer to Firework Connection.

Louis never really liked Tiverton. He prefers Bonnet over any small northeastern coast town, but he might be a little biased towards it. Tiverton always felt like Bonnet’s rival town to Louis, in a sense, for beach-ness and small vacation getaway likableness. Tiverton always felt too small, which is why he hates coming here. Despite the closeness of the town, they happen to have a firework distributor, of all things. Tiverton is probably lacking in several things, as is Bonnet, but one of those things is not the Firework Connection.

Louis and Harry spend nearly an hour wandering the shop and picking out things that they think the younger kids would enjoy. Louis knows he’s going to be setting them off, so he makes sure to get a few that he’ll enjoy as well. Jay has already given him some cash and promised to reimburse him for any delving into his own pockets that he does, so Louis makes sure to go to _town._ Like a kid in a candy shop, Louis immerses himself in the product and almost doesn’t want to leave.

Just the spontaneous day outing with Harry made Louis feel worlds better about a lot of things, even though Louis was in a pretty good mental place to begin with; Bonnet Shores often does that to Louis, he’s a bit less miserable here than he is elsewhere. It’d also been _years_ since he’s spent any kind of prolonged time with Harry, and it goes seamlessly. They catch up and joke and laugh like no time has passed at all. Not even once do they bring up what happened between them so many years ago, not once does it feel awkward or forced.

When he returns to the house, himself and Harry part ways, and Louis brings his firework haul into the house.

“Lots!” He calls, dropping the bags on the kitchen island. “Got your fireworks!”

Lottie, Tommy, and Jay come down the stairs. Lottie and Tommy are much more entertained than Jay is. “I didn’t think you’d go this big,” Jay says, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist and pulling him close. “None of us really have any firework experience here, boo.”

Louis shrugs. “They’ve all got instructions on ‘em. We’ll all be fine.”

“That means you’re the one setting them off, right? It’s a good thing you’re so keen on the instructions and spending a hundred dollars on fireworks.”

“I suppose I can, if you really want me to. It can’t be that difficult, can it?”

 _all the hardest, coldest  
_ _people you meet were once  
_ _as soft as water. and that’s  
_ _the tragedy of living.  
_ _-iain s. thomas_

“[Not](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuOUNEOEuaM) that I want to be a helicopter sister or anything, but where’d you run off to this afternoon with Louis?” Gemma asks, sitting down with Kate in her lap. “Saw him drop you off this afternoon.”

Harry sighs, settling into his chair and getting ready for an intrusive, heart-wrenching discussion with both his sister and his mother, because Anne is already sitting down opposite her two kids and is obviously intent on hearing everything Harry’s going to say.

“I’d love to know where you went as well, seeing as you left with little notice as to where you were going and when you’d be back,” Anne says happily, setting her glass of wine on the table.

“I went for a drive with Louis. We went over to Tiverton to buy fireworks,” he says honestly, seeing no sense in withholding any information from his mother and sister, both of whom could easily find out the truth about nearly anything Harry tells them.

“You just decided to join him on that little excursion? How’d that come about?” Gemma asks.

“We came to the mutual decision that I could tag along if I wanted to. And I wasn’t getting up to much around here and haven't been to Tiverton in ages, so…” Harry trails off, not feeling the need to explain his motivations any further. There also isn’t really any further explanation. It kind of just… happened.

“How’d that go? Was it… interesting? In any sense of the word _interesting_?” Anne gives Harry a careful look.

Harry knows what she means, knows what she’s looking for him to admit to. “We just talked a bit. Listened to the radio. Picked out fireworks. That’s about it.”

Gemma reaches over with the hand that’s not wrapped around Kate and pulls on one of Harry’s long curls, making a sympathetic sound. “That must’ve been hard for you, huh? Platonically hanging out with your ex-romantically involved individual?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Gems, please stop. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, Harry?” his mother asks, laughing. “She’s asking you a question. Sure, it could’ve been asked a different way, slightly less… teasing, but it’s a valid question. D’you think things could change between you two?”

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about that a time or two since running into Louis at Bonnet. But after hanging out with Louis a handful of times, Harry’s beginning to realize that they’re most definitely not the same people that they once were. Harry wouldn’t necessarily shut out the option of rekindling something with Louis, but it just doesn’t seem like it’s very likely.

“No, it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry says, hoping his voice comes off as honest, because that is the first lie he’s told since Gemma started grilling him. “And, no, I don’t think anything will change. It’s been years and I don’t even feel anything for him anymore, so I’m sure it’s the same for Louis.”

“Aw, Hazza. So naive, thinking your love for him will ever go away,” Gemma pouts, pinching Harry’s cheek as she stands up and finally _leaves him alone._

Even after Gemma leaves, Anne holds her ground across the table and stares at Harry intently. Harry arches his eyebrows at her, silently asking, _what? Do you have anything to say to me?_ Anne shrugs. “Just want you to be careful. With your heart and his. Love is a messy, dangerous thing, H. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Harry wishes, wishes with all his might, that his mum and sister will soon realize that he doesn’t need to be babied, he doesn’t need to be constantly checked up on. He doesn’t need them imbedding themselves in his relationships and his thoughts and his work and his love life. He endlessly wishes they’d realize he’s not a child, that he can protect his own heart from whatever damage might come to it.

Now, of course, there have been times when Harry’s self-defence mechanisms have failed him and he’s ended up hurt. But Harry truly thinks that the pain he may or may not face is what makes everything worth it in the end. Without horror he can’t know beauty, without sadness he can’t know happiness, that kind of thing.

********

“What are they doin’?” Jacob asks, pointing over to the Tomlinson’s strip of beach. Harry follows the young boy’s finger, only to see he’s pointing at Louis. He’s standing over a piece of plywood and clearly trying to set up the firework station.

“They’re gonna put off some fireworks, love. They’ll look pretty and go boom, you know?”

“Can we go watch? And help? Ernie and Doris are there too!” he says excitedly, looking at Harry with a joyous look in his eyes at just the _thought_ of going over.

Harry sighs, looking from Jacob to where Louis’ staring intently at a firework package and back to Jacob. “Yeah, bub. We’ll go over, let’s just tell mum and Nana where we’re off to, alright?”

Jacob claps his hands gleefully, puttering right into the house to find his mum. Harry, in the meantime, finds his own mother to let her know where they’re off to and even extend an invite to her. “Mum?” he calls, making his way to the kitchen, where Anne likely is.

“What’s up, baby? Want a drink?” Sure enough, Anne is in the kitchen.

“Mum, you seem all too happy to keep pouring alcohol down my throat,” Harry tells her, leaning on the island.

Anne stops her hand halfway to the wine bottle. “I could get you some fruit punch instead?”

“No!” Harry says quickly, laughing. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll take a glass, if you’re offering.”

Anne hums, knowing. “That’s what I thought. Knew I’d raised you better than that. Did you need something from me? Other than my wine?”

Harry smiles at her. “I’m about to go invite myself to the Tomlinson bonfire with Jacob. They’re putting off fireworks and he wants a front row seat. And he wants to play with Ernie and Doris, as if he hasn’t done enough of that already. Was just coming to let you know, and invite you to tag along, if you’re at all interested in talking some more with Jay.”

“Oh, I’d love to! I’m sure Gemma and Matt will come over with Kate as well. I’ll drag Robin away from that damn footie game as well. Actually, you could go over first? Make sure it’s okay?”

“Sure, mum,” Harry rolls his eyes and takes the wine glass she hands him. “I will canvas the scene for you and make sure all’s well.”

He retrieves Jacob from his mother, who says she’ll be joining them if Harry gets the all clear. Harry lets Jacob lead the way across the yard, the boy’s small hand in one of Harry’s and his wine glass in the other. Doris’ face lights up when she sees the pair coming over. “Jakey!” she exclaims, running through the sand to them. “We’re gonna put fireworks, do you wanna come watch?”

With that, Jacob takes off without giving Harry a second thought. Harry approaches Louis, who is currently taking a sip from his beer bottle and looking at a firework package in his hand. “Alcohol and fireworks?” Harry questions, crouching down next to him. “I’m not so sure that’s a good combination.”

“What’re you doing over here? You’re supposed to stay behind the line in the sand that Doris so thoughtfully and wonderfully drew out.”

“Figured I’d help you out a bit. Your mum kinda threw you to the wolves with these fireworks, it seems. I’ll jump in with you, don’t worry.”

Louis rolls his eyes and stands up with the package of what Harry now realizes is bottle rockets. He finishes his beer and uses that to hold two of the sticks, pulls out a lighter, and lights them. The bottle rockets earn a disappointed _boo_ from one of the older twins, which makes Louis laugh and apologize.

“Gotta find something better and more entertaining. Make sure mum thinks this is a worthwhile investment.” Louis says, surveying the fireworks laid out in front of him. “D’you think you could get me another beer?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at Harry.

Harry huffs dramatically, but Louis knows he’s being dramatic, so keeps on looking at him pointedly. Harry wastes no time getting up and getting the beer for Louis. Lottie cuts in front of him on his way back to Louis and the fireworks, and Harry can’t say he’s surprised by it.

“Who’s the beer for?” she asks, looking at the wine glass in Harry’s left hand and the beer in his right.

“Your brother. He’s working hard over there on the fireworks,” Harry says, glancing back at Louis.

Lottie smiles. “How was the car ride to Tiverton the other day?”

Harry should’ve known a question like that was coming. He keeps a straight face while Lottie looks at him carefully. “It was fine. I haven’t been in ages. We had a fun picking out the fireworks.”

Lottie nods, a smirk on her face. She lets Harry go, though, but Harry doesn’t take that as the end of the conversation. There will be more conversations like that, Harry can imagine that there’s more of that coming. Louis gratefully takes his beer and quickly turns his attention back to the firework contraption set up.

“Do you have _any_ idea how these work? Like, firework safety and all that?” Harry asks, sitting down on the sand a little bit behind Louis.

Louis shakes his head, holding the lighter in place and waiting for it to catch. The string ignites and travels quickly to the base of the structure. Louis frowns and sits back on his heels. “That's a dud—”

As he's saying it, the thing erupts, spitting colored sparks like a fountain. Louis stumbles back, landing on his ass. He's laughing, though, that’s how Harry knows he’s okay; and he’s got Harry laughing too, which is a nice bonus.

“Fuck, okay then,” he mutters, shaking his head and crawling through the sand to the assortment of fireworks.

Harry’s still laughing over Louis’ little mishap. “You’re supposed to back away from the fireworks, you know.”

Louis looks over his shoulder to glare at him. He picks up a spinner and sets it up on the piece of plywood, lights it, and steps further back to watch it go. Ernest and Doris have squeals of delight, watching it spin and spin.

Louis does seem to be catching on to the whole firework thing, Harry has to admit. And he’s loving watching Louis have fun like this. “Do we have any that go up in the air?” Harry asks, deciding to push their firework luck a little bit.

Louis shrugs, holding the roman candle in the air and iming it towards the water. They shoot off one by one, dissolving over the water. “You should probably be more careful with those, you shouldn’t hold it.” Harry tells him, shuffling through the sand to look more closely at all the firework packages.

“Eh, I’ll be fine,” Louis shrugs, taking a sip from his beer while the last fireball from the candle goes off.

“You’d better be careful, Lou!” Jay calls from her chair further up on the sand.

Harry turns around, grin on his face that thankfully their families up the beach can’t see. “I just told him that same thing!”

“See, Boo? We’re all looking out for you!” Jay laughs, shooting Harry a thumbs up. Harry takes the small moment and tucks it in his back pocket – for memory or future leverage, he’s not quite sure – and picks up the display fireworks. “Here. Do these, Lou. Everyone will love them.”

Louis, unsurprisingly, gets the fireworks figured out. In no time, everyone is _ooh-_ ing and _ahh-_ ing. Louis sits down in the sand beside Harry for a moment and admires some of his handiwork. Harry’s not shocked that Louis figured out the fireworks in a matter of minutes. For starters, it’s not exactly rocket science. The instructions are written on the packages and they’re pretty self-explanatory, anyway. And, Louis is smart. Louis’ always been smart, for as long as Harry’s known him. He’s not necessarily book smart - not all the time, anyway - but he’s street smart, as Harry used to tell him. Louis is practical, he’s quick on his feet, and in his mind. He’s witty, always kept Harry, and _anyone_ he spoke to, on their toes.

Harry finds some comfort and relief in seeing that Louis has not really changed in that way.

Immediately after that firework display ends, which Harry was lost in his thoughts for the better part of, Louis’ siblings and Gemma’s kids demand more fireworks be put off. Louis and Harry are quick to get on it. They have fun with it, holding the roman candles and bottle rockets and lighting off the fountain ones until they run out.

Louis stands, with another roman candle in one hand and his other hand on his hip, while Harry sits in the sand and opens another pack of sparklers. Harry stops looking at the package very quickly and finds himself looking more at Louis. Every burst from the candle illuminates Louis’ face in pale red for just a second, drawing Harry’s attention to his pretty cheekbones and long eyelashes.

Louis catches him staring, but Harry doesn't look away. There’s no point in it; Louis is going to give him shit regardless. “You’re staring,” Louis points out needlessly.

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, what’re you gonna do about it?”

Louis laughs, looking away again. “You haven't changed, Harry Styles.”

“Alright, I think that’s a wonderful end to a very eventful Fourth of July,” Jay calls, standing up and grabbing Ernest’s hand. She prevents Harry and Louis both from having to say anything further, which Harry is both grateful and angry about. “These little ones should be getting off to bed.”

Louis extends a new beer towards Harry and pops the cap off his own, taking a sip and looking at Lottie. “Time for you to get off to bed, young one,” he says teasingly. Harry can’t help but smile. He hides it in a sip of his beer.

Gemma sends Matt over with Kate and Jacob to put them to bed. She’s insistent upon having another glass of wine. With the four youngest in bed, those adults who can drink, do, while Daisy, Phoebe, and Fizzy settle for just sitting by the fire. Louis drags a folding chair over to the fire for Harry without Harry even asking.

“That was very gentlemanly of you.” Harry remarks, taking his seat.

Louis shrugs, sitting down in the chair next to Harry. “Just a chair. But, you’re welcome.”

Harry takes a sip from the beer Louis handed him and makes a face immediately after swallowing. “I think I’ve had too much beer,” he says, taking another sip regardless. “I don’t like it very much.”

Louis looks over at him curiously. Harry meets his eye, hoping to convey a _please make me a fruity mixed drink_ stare. “So then why are you still drinking it?”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. Just wanna drink, I guess.”

“What happened to you not drinking often? Didn’t you tell me that?”

“I did tell you that.” Harry says, awed that Louis remembered such a small detail and that he chose to bring it up. “I just… it’s summer. And I’m not getting smashed. And after this, I probably won’t have much more.”

“You’re not getting smashed, but I’m already about halfway there, so there’s that.” Louis grins, tipping his chair dangerously back on it’s back legs.

Harry reaches forward and pushes the chair back on all four legs. Louis glares at him for it, but doesn’t say anything. As conversation around the campfire picks up, Harry finds himself getting more and more lost in Louis. Louis keeps on drinking, well on his way to drunk and Harry just can’t stop watching him. He’s pretty shameless about it, Harry’s plenty sober enough to know that he’s blatantly staring at Louis but he doesn’t really care. Usually Harry needs heavy liquor in his system in order to not care about things - to shamelessly flirt - but with Louis, Harry never needed the liquid encouragement.

Before he knows it, Harry and Louis are the only two still lingering by the fire. They’re lost in conversation with each other, about any and everything that they can think of. They’re talking softly, leaned close together in their respective folding chairs. Harry feels warm and happy sitting here; maybe even slightly more content than he’s felt all summer. Louis’ drunken sentence about Lottie and Tommy trails off as he tips his head back to look at the sky, which is clear of clouds and littered with stars.

“You’re my best fuckin’ friend, Harry. Still. I love you.” Louis murmurs drunkenly.

Harry swallows hard. He swallows the words, and they go down like nails. He’d been wanting to hear Louis say those words, wanted to say them to Louis, wanted to exchange them and be honest with each other. Harry wants to tell Louis that he hasn’t stopped thinking about him, Louis has always, always been in the back of his mind, wants to hear the same thing from Louis.

“You’re _drunk._ So [drunk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0v0UgQowMU&t=67s),” Harry says instead of literally everything else he could say.

“I’d say at _least_ fifty percent drunk. But, I’m not kidding.”

Harry’s so close, is the thing. Louis’ so close to him, he could be so close to winning back Louis’ heart but it never happens. Louis means this, of course he does, he has to. Harry can’t handle how lost in translation they always become.

“Louis,” Harry says softly. Louis looks back over at him, his eyes looking a little glassy but entirely bright blue.

Harry leans forward and kisses him. And it feels like everything he’d struggled over, everything he’d lost and longed for over the past eight years without Louis there, has come back to him in this moment.

Louis seems shocked at first, but falls into the kiss just a second later. The world around Harry bends. Shifts. Rebuilds. Then, just seconds after it’s rebuilt, Harry’s world falls apart again. Louis pulls away abruptly, standing up with his beer bottle still in his hand.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Harry,” he says lowly. With that, he walks away.

Harry can’t bring himself to move, he’s so shocked. He can’t believe he just did that; he kissed Louis completely out of the blue. He can’t believe that just happened; he kissed Louis and Louis _walked away._

He finally realizes, after much too long, that he’s still sitting in the Tomlinson’s yard. It’s late and Harry’s the only person still outside. He’s alone. Harry gets up and heads back over to his own house.

His mother is standing in the dim light of the kitchen, looking at him. She knows, Harry thinks, just like she always knew. “Hey, love. You okay?” Anne asks softly; and she definitely knows.

Harry feels vulnerable, standing in front of her like this. “You, um… remember when I said that Louis was a different person now, or whatever? That he and I were different people?”

Anne nods, her eyebrows drawing together. She looks either confused or sympathetic, and Harry can’t decide which one he’d prefer. “He’s definitely a different person now, I’m sure of it,” Harry admits, hoping to hide the crack in his voice but also knowing that his mum most definitely heard it.

Anne smiles sadly. “Okay, love. You ready for bed?”

Harry shrugs. “Not sure I wanna go to sleep yet.”

His mother looks at him carefully. Harry wishes he could read her mind. They’re close, connected, but he has no idea what she’s thinking right now. “Do you want to sit and talk?” Anne asks. When he nods, Harry realizes that she’s looking at Harry like she already knows the answer to her own question (and all of Harry’s problems).

They get two cups of tea, and Harry sits across the table from his mother, and she stares at him. “Stop looking at me like that,” Harry pouts, resting his chin on his hand. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Did you enjoy the fireworks?”

“They were nice. I like having them up close and personal rather than going with all those people. It was good to do it here instead of going out.”

“Pretty cool that the Tomlinsons are here this year, huh?” Anne asks.  
“So _that’s_ what you want to sit and talk about,” Harry laughs.

Anne shrugs her shoulders, a small smirk playing across her face. “I mean, it’s come up, and now that it has…”

“ _You_ brought it up, mum,” Harry rolls his eyes and still can’t help but smile at her. “You saw me and Louis, didn’t you?”

“Well, now _you’ve_ brought it up.” Anne says curtly, sitting up a little straighter. Her expression softens and she turns all serious, concerned mother. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t mean to, was doing some dishes and saw you still sitting over there. Felt kind of like I was intruding on something.”

“You weren’t,” Harry insists, probably too quickly. “It’s… I don’t know what it is.”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Harry tilts his head at her curiously. “What hurts?”

“Seeing him back here like this.” She replies. Anne’s voice is simple, casual, like she’s not opening a door that has been forced shut for Harry. “I know what he did to you, what he was for you.”

“It’s over now, mum. I don’t know why we did that or what he was thinking, but I’m not expecting anything. I don’t… feel anything.”

Anne makes a sympathetic sound. “Really, love?”

“Really, mum. There’s nothing we can do about it.” he decides. Harry can’t tell if he’s trying to convince his mother or himself. “ _C’est ce que c’est_ ,” he says to himself.

But Anne hears him regardless, and looks at Harry confusedly. “Did you just speak french?”

“I mean, I think so.” Harry admits, laughing softly. Louis spoke french when they were younger, he told Harry he’d been taking it in school as a second language. Harry remembers nights spent laying on the dock listening to Louis teach him new words and phrases.

He especially remembers the night Louis told Harry that the Tomlinsons wouldn’t be coming back to Bonnet, partially due to the hassle it causes and due to Louis’ uni classes starting. Louis was perched outside Harry’s window late one night, and he broke the news to Harry. Harry cried, even though he hated crying in front of Louis. Louis was always so strong and happy and held-together, while Harry was more emotional. They were always like that. But Harry cried, and Louis came through the window and held him, and he whispered _c’est ce que c’est_ over and over again. It meant _it is what it is,_ it was one of Louis’ favorite things to say, especially in french.

“What’s it mean?” Anne asks finally. Conversation, apparently, is not done yet. Harry’s not necessarily complaining.

“It is what it is.” Harry tells her. “Louis used to say it all the time.”

“He’s got that as a tattoo, hasn’t he?”

 _Yes, he does_. Harry remembers that because he’s spent a lot of time looking at Louis shirtless so far this summer, and presumes his mother must have been doing the same. He decides to tease her a little bit, because Harry deserves to have some fun. “Spend a lot of time looking at him, mum?”

Anne scoffs. “Sure, love. _I’m_ the one who’s been doing that.”

Harry rolls his eyes at her for the who-knows-what-time since sitting down, but can’t bring himself to argue any further. “I just–we’re not the same people. It’s not going to happen, this is it.”

“Ah. This seems to be the beginning and the end of everything, doesn’t it?”

His mother finally lets him go, and Harry retreats to his bedroom like he has so many times since they’ve had this house. He gets ready for bed, but once laying there, can’t will himself to sleep. Harry lays there, staring at the ceiling that still has Orion’s constellation formed using star stickers. Louis helped him put it up years ago, Harry thinks it might have been Louis’ last summer here, but he can’t be sure. Bonnet summers kind of blended together, especially after Harry and Louis became an item.

Finally, Harry can’t just lay in the bed idly anymore. He gets up and grabs his treasured notebook, pushes his window open, and sits on the windowsill. He imagines Louis across from him, a joint or maybe even a cigarette between his lips. Harry picks up the pen, opens the notebook, and starts writing.

_Same lips red, same eyes blue._

  
_and then there are  
__the songs i cannot  
__listen to without  
__hearing you.  
__-david jones_

Louis is sitting on the dock when his mum hollers that Niall is here to see him. Louis’ always eager to talk to Niall; they’ll laugh and gossip and argue and sometimes even just sit in silence and Louis is okay with all of it. Niall’s a great, generally happy person to be around.

On his way down to the dock, Niall grabs a folding chair. “Tommo!” he exclaims, making himself at home across from Louis. “How’re you doing?”

“Not too bad, Nialler. What brings you here?”

Niall shrugs. “Just wanna talk about… stuff. I dunno. Missed having you around.”

“You could always, I don't know, come visit me. Either here or in New York.”

“I know, but still… How’s your summer going? Good to be back?”

Louis nods. “I’m not complaining. Not all the time, anyway. I’d rather be here than working, so I mean. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Was surprised I didn't see you at the bar on Friday night. Harry played, and none of us have missed any of his gigs this summer. You, my friend, were the first.” Niall says, leaning back in his chair.

Now the purpose of this visit is becoming increasingly obvious, and is feeling more and more like an interrogation by the minute. “Family shit going on here, Ni.” Louis says honestly. “Had a riveting game of footie happening. And I couldn't get drunk again.”

“You know you can come to a bar and – hear me out here, Lou – but you can come to a bar and _not drink.”_

Louis rolls his eyes. “That defeats the purpose, Niall. How’d H do?”

“Amazing, as always. Think he was looking for you, but he didn’t say anything about it. None of us really knew why you didn’t show, and I assumed there’d be good reason for it anyhow. Harry’s a great songwriter. It’s all such intimate, personal shit, but somehow everyone in that bar relates.”

“Yeah, I know.” Louis is no stranger to Harry‍’s songwriting skills; they used to write together all the time, and everything Harry’s been playing at the pub has been spectacular thus far.

“Yeah… The song he played last night, though. Shit. I’m kinda glad you didn’t come.” Niall shakes his head, blue eyes blown wide. He’s starting shit and he knows it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“It was just… About you, Louis. I’m sorry, but it was. I’m glad you weren’t there to hear it because, _fuck,_ it was about you and it _hurt_ him.”

“He told you, didn’t he?” Louis asks lowly, leg beginning to bounce anxiously or angrily, he can't decide.

“He was a bit tipsy when he did, in Harry’s defense. You wanna give me your side? Might as well do it now, save you some drunken pain later.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re a pain in my ass, Niall.” Louis tells him. Niall cracks a huge grin. “Obviously Harry’s already told you what happened, but we kissed. Thursday night. Fourth of July.”

“And what’d you do?” Niall asks, eyebrows raised somewhat challengingly. Louis wants to push him into the fucking water.

“I walked away, Niall. Because he and I can’t do this. It didn’t mean anything, it won’t lead to anything. I was drunk and I can’t put him through this again.”

" _This?_ What’s this?”

“ _Niall,”_ Louis groans, tipping his head back. “I can’t hurt him again. We’re different people now and we aren’t in love anymore and that’s it. That’s everything there is to know. We’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”

Niall just looks at him. The hard stare makes Louis feel criticized and hated and nervous. Under the glare of Niall’s blue eyes, Louis reaches into his pocket and produces his box of cigarettes. “Thought you were quitting that.”

“You sound like Harry,” Louis says, nose upturned in disgust and hoping that his voice conveys the same unpleasantness. “I don’t remember saying that.”  

“Smoking is a nasty habit, Louis.”

“Niall, I love you to death, but right now I want to kill you.”

“Louis, I love you as well. Hey, how do you feel about baseball?”

Louis’ always admired Niall’s personality. He’s quick and funny and loud and always, always random. Louis could always count on Niall for spontaneous outings and adventures and things that got them into some trouble. Louis never minded those things, though he can’t say the same for their mothers. His mood can change on a dime, going from serious to joking to completely out of left field.

This is something completely out of left field. Pun somewhat intended.

“Baseball?” Louis shrugs. “I know how to play. Know they play it here in the summer.”

“How’d you feel about playing a game? Gemma already said that she was down, saw her at the gas station earlier. She’ll bring Matt and the kids, too.”

“Gemma?” Louis asks curiously. “Does that mean–”

“Harry? Yeah, probably. But, if what you and him have going on is nothing, then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Niall muses. He’s got a massive shit-eating grin on his face that Louis absolutely hates him for. “So, yeah, baseball field, around seven. Myself and Liam are captains, so. Get there in time for picks if you do so please. We’ll only wait like… five minutes. No patience in this game.”

“I’ll strongly think about it.”

 

“Have you got any plans tonight?” Jay asks, looking at Louis curiously. Louis shakes his head, shrugs. “Niall didn’t suggest anything? I figured you two were plotting something, he almost always is.”

“I mean, it’s nothing. Just, like, this baseball game he wants us to play.” Louis shrugs again. “I dunno if I’m gonna go.”

“Everyone would go? Liam, Niall, Harry… the works?”

“I think so. Probably Gemma, a few others. But you know Harry and I aren’t talking

anymore, mum.”

Jay frowns. “Well, you know I don’t like that.”

Louis rolls his eyes. The more he sits here under the scrutiny of his mother’s gaze, the more he actually wants to go to this baseball game. “I know you don’t like to hear it from me. But you guys were everything for each other before all that messy crap happened. It’s okay to admit that–”

“ _Mum,”_ he groans, standing up abruptly. “It’s been _eight years._ Eight entire years. I’m twenty eight, mum.”

“Oh, right, and when you’re twenty eight all possibility for love and lost romance goes out the window,” Jay says sarcastically. Louis knows where he gets his own attitude from, it’s obvious more than ever. “Maybe you’ll, I dunno, reconnect.”

“Oh, my god. I’m going to the baseball game. I’ll be back later, hopefully. Assuming this doesn’t kill me first.”

 

At three minutes past seven, Louis finds himself standing by the fence of the field where they spent a lot of time as kids. Before Louis could drive, they’d get rides from any one of their parents or even went for a rather long bike ride. They’d spend hours there, playing footie and baseball and even throwing an American football around when Harry got caught up in the craze.

Louis is standing here now, in the dugout he parked closest to, truly debating _why_ he’s here. He almost turns and walks away before Niall calls his name and Louis isn’t home free anymore. Louis puts down his phone, keys, and water bottle before meeting up with everyone at the pitcher’s mound.

“Louis is going to play baseball?” Liam asks, voice slightly whining.

“Yeah, I am,” Louis nods. “Got a problem with that?”

“None whatsoever,” Harry chimes in.

Liam shoots him a look. “Then he can be on your team, Harry. Louis tends to suck at baseball, in case you haven’t forgotten.”

Louis scoffs, offended. “I’m not that bad! There was that _one_ time but that was because I wiped out sliding into home!”

“You took out me and Perrie! We were batting and catching!” Liam protests.

“He’s playing and that’s final. On my team if he _has_ to be.” Harry says decidedly. “Stop being a dick, Liam.”

Louis sticks his bottom lip out and playfully pinches Harry’s cheek. “My big bad hero,” he coos.

Harry grins, shooting Louis a cocky wink. “Any chance I get to see your ass in baseball pants.”

“Knock it off, Styles. There aren’t even any baseball pants for the wearing.”

Louis is still stuck on Harry’s team. Harry isn’t too torn up about it, that’s very clear. Louis’ head really isn’t in the game. For starters, he never really liked baseball, as he has explained several times to several people over the years. So he’s not that committed to this sport. Secondly, Harry is just very distracting. Louis’ been a bit thrown off ever since the Fourth of July, but it is definitely not his fault. He’s just on edge.

“You’re slacking,” Harry tells him passing over a baseball bat. “I didn’t expect this from you, Tomlinson.”

Louis knows that Harry’s right; Louis hasn’t been non-competitive a day in his life. He competed when it came to everything, board games and swimming races and just about any pickup sport they started. Louis hated losing in every way he could ever lose. They’re losing now, Harry’s just made this fact known to Louis.

“I suppose I’ll take that as a challenge, then, Styles. Not slacking anymore,” Louis grumbles.

He gets up to bat and hits a triple, and strongly debates flashing Harry his ass just for the hell of it. Even without interest in the sport, all Louis needs is a fire under his ass and _bam,_ he’s competing. Harry comes and stands beside third base like some kind of mock-coach, even though Louis knows there is no proper coaching or calls aside from the ones Gemma’s husband is making behind the plate.

“That’s more like it, Lou. With more hits like that, we won’t be losing anymore,” Harry grins.

“Whatever,” Louis rolls his eyes, watching little Jacob swing and miss at a pitch. Niall’s on the mound currently, and he’s doing a rather shit job of it. “You’re pitching to a three year old, Horan! Give him a good one!”

“He is giving pretty crappy throws,” Harry agrees, voice sounding kind of far away and absorbed in something else. Louis looks over at him, only to find that Harry’s staring at him already. Before Louis can say anything, there’s the ding of the ball on the bat and Harry’s clapping. “That’s your cue, Lou. Get going!”

Louis takes off running finally, definitely a few seconds too late. This becomes evident when he’s sliding into home, colliding nicely with Niall on the ground. They’re laughing, and do even more of that when Louis holds Niall to the ground so that Jacob can come around the bases. The boy makes it all the way home and everyone cheers him on, Matt giving him a parade-around on the shoulders for his “home run”.

Louis’ still laying in the dirt at home plate when Harry stands over him and offers Louis his first beer of the night, which Louis takes gratefully. They keep playing even after drinks are being passed around and consumed a bit faster than they should be; and even Gemma drinks.

Louis is in the outfield with a baseball mitt on his left hand and a third beer in his right when Gemma and Matt leave with Jacob and Kate. It’s nearly nine, according to Niall, and Louis doesn’t see the remaining players leaving any time soon. Even though Liam’s almost drunk and Niall’s trying to bribe Harry into shotgunning a beer and Perrie (who Louis really fucking missed) is pitching terribly to her boyfriend. It’s a mess, not far from how it used to be when they played.

They’d sneak a few beers each from their houses and stuffed them in the bottom of the duffle bags that they brought baseball mitts and footballs (of the American and English kind) and came to the baseball field to play a bit and get as drunk as they could in their limited circumstances.

“[That’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w)  _it!”_ Perrie shouts, dropping the ball and her mitt on the ground. “I’m done, I’m getting drunk. I’ve got a bottle of fireball in my purse and we’re not leaving here without having at least half of it.”

That is a plan Louis can get behind. He brings his glove and the beer into the middle of the field where the others have begun gathering. He sits down in the grass beside Perrie, who immediately offers him the fireball. “We haven’t got any club soda or anything to mix it with, so take it like a man, Tomlinson.”

Louis’ known Perrie since he started vacationing in Bonnet. She showed him the ropes, since she’d been coming for far longer than he had. She ended up moving nearby, and jumped at the opportunity to come over for a weekend when Harry (apparently) told her that they were here. Louis loves that she’s here, he’s missed her a lot.

Louis takes the fireball from Perrie and sniffs it first, which makes Niall call him out. “Listen, at least I’m gonna fuckin’ drink it.” Louis claps back, bringing the bottle to his lips. It’s gross, as it always is, but Louis drinks it. He washes it down with his beer, making Niall laugh again.

He leans forward and shoves the bottle into Niall’s hand. “Take it, douchebag,” he scowls, settling back into his original seat, where Harry has apparently found a spot next to him. After Niall passes the fireball, he reaches behind himself and produces a bong, to which Louis laughs out loud at.

Perrie and her boyfriend go home (but leave the fireball), and Harry’s laying on his back in the grass. Liam and Niall have stood up and started throwing the baseball again, much to Louis’ enjoyment. They’re drunk and can’t throw for shit, so it’s rather funny.

“Next one that drops the ball, shotguns another beer,” Louis tells them, sitting up and reaching for the bong.

“You’re evil, you know?” Harry asks lowly, looking up at Louis carefully. “I think you enjoy watching people be miserable.”

Louis shrugs, packing the bowl and striking the lighter. Louis can feel Harry watching him while he takes a hit, so he exhales his smoke in the direction of Harry’s mouth and passes the bong. “So long as I’m not the one being miserable.”

Harry laughs out loud and takes the bong. This time, Louis is the one who is staring, watching as Harry’s lips are pressed to the pipe. His subconscious desire overtakes him quickly, and he reaches over and puts a thumb against Harry’s mouth to make him hold the smoke in. Louis moves his finger just a few seconds later.

Harry stares at Louis with bright eyes. They lock eyes for just a moment before Harry directs his up towards the sky, and Louis follows. “Remember when I’d teach you all those constellations? I’d make you come out and we’d lay there for hours looking up at them.”

Louis recalls that vividly; Harry would never shut up about the constellations and he’d drill them into Louis’ mind. They’d lay side-by-side and Harry would point out every single one of the constellations and tell Louis bits and pieces of the stories that he remembered. Louis can’t even count nor remember all the times Harry fell asleep on his chest, listening to Louis make up bullshit stories about the stars.

“I still remember them.”

Harry looks over at him in awe. “The constellations? Really?”

Louis smiles wide and looks up at the sky. “There’s the dipper, and the big bear. And the moon, and Scorpio is there too.” He can’t believe he remembers them all so well; and he’s _drunk,_ that’s the real miracle. He remembers them all and he’s drunk. Louis’ helplessly proud of himself.

“Can you tell me more?” Harry asks, still looking at Louis like he’s got the key to everything in his face somewhere. Louis tries to ignore the strange feeling in his chest. “Constellations, I mean. I like hearing you talk about them.”

Louis takes a breath. He convinces himself that it’s his mother’s conversation before that’s making him feel this weird. “Perseus,” Louis points. “Cassiopeia, one of my personal favorites. There’s-”

Louis’ sentence is cut off when Harry’s propped above him, hands pressed into the dirt on either side of him. Harry’s intense, slightly hazy eyes rival the skies and Louis lets himself get swept away.

All of a sudden they’re kissing and Louis forgets where and who they are. He forgets what’s happened between them. They’re different; older and taller and more tattoos and Harry’s not the sweet, innocent, tennager he was when Louis had him the first time. Louis breathes deep into the kiss, realizing that they’re older now and things have _changed._

Then he comes to his senses. And he rolls away, knocking Harry off him and getting to his feet as fast as his tipsy limbs will allow. Harry just looks up at him, confused, like he doesn’t realize what they just did, like he doesn’t remember what happened so many years ago.

“Louis-” Niall mutters, but cuts himself off very quickly.

“I’ve, uh, gotta go. I should definitely go. Mum’s gonna be worried.” Louis’ lying through his teeth, so long as Jay knows where he is, she won’t worry unless she doesn’t hear from him.

“Lou, I’m not sober but I’m still pretty sure I’m an okay judge of when it’s okay to drive–” Liam starts, but Louis shakes his head.

“I’m good, y’don’t have to fucking hover over me.” Louis tells him. He beelines for his keys, still where he left them so many hours ago, and uses shaky hands to unlock the car. Once in, he locks himself in again and sits there, trying to fucking _breathe._

Finally he starts the car and pulls away, glad that Harry didn’t try to make some last-ditch effort to stop Louis from leaving. He would, too. Louis and Harry are both no stranger to their own hail mary efforts when on the brink of total destruction with each other.

Louis drives slowly back home, because he knows that he’s got to be careful. Louis’ sober enough to know that he’s not sober. He parks the car outside of the house and can’t remember on the way to the door whether or not he left the keys in the ignition, but can’t bring himself to go searching. He figures he’ll at least attempt to sneak in, so he’s careful in opening and closing the door.

But Jay is waiting for him, as she almost always was when he was younger. “Hey, mum,” he says casually, leaning in the doorframe to give himself some kind of stability.

“I didn’t expect to see you home tonight,” his mother says, staring hard at him.

“Well, here I am.”

“Are you drunk?” Jay doesn’t hold back, and she comes to stand right in front of Louis so she can study him properly. “Louis William, did you drive that car home _drunk?”_

“I’m not even that bad, mum. I just really wanted to get home.”

“Louis, I know you’re not trying to justify you getting in the car and _driving_ while _drunk._ You’re smarter than that, _I_ raised you smarter than that. I don’t know what went on at that baseball field, I don’t know what’s going on with Harry but I cannot think of a world nor a situation where you think putting yourself in the car _drunk_ is okay.”

“I don’t want a lecture, mum. I-”

“You’re getting a lecture, Louis William.” Louis is going to keep a tally of all the times she middle-names him during this lecture. “You are young and you are dumb, two things that you are allowed to be so long as you’re young. And I know that this is just one of those young and dumb things, but this is one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done, and I hope to god it’s the dumbest thing you will do. Like I said, I don’t know what happened at that baseball game or whatever. I can see that you’ve gotten drunk, and I expected that. I cannot believe you drove home drunk.”

Louis sidesteps her to go and sit at the kitchen island. He’s beginning to feel very overwhelmed and slightly dizzy. He makes it a point not to mention the bong. “Yeah, I’m an absolute idiot. I know.”

“Louis, you’ve been entirely unbearable for a majority of the summer and I think it has something to do with Harry Styles.” Jay blurts, like she’s not supposed to say this. Louis rolls his eyes. “And I think that’s why you left that baseball field tonight.”

“Is my lecture over, mum? I’m really tired of this. I’m drunk and tired and I just want to go to bed.”

Jay grabs Louis’ face in both her hands and stares at him, hard. “You are my first born son and you know that I’d do anything for you. I’ll never forget that you did this and I plan on chauffeuring you to and from any recreational drinking activities for the rest of the summer,” she says cheerfully, kissing Louis’ forehead. “C’mon, love. Lets go to bed.”

********

“We’re going out on the boat,” Lottie tells Louis, looking at him expectantly. “You’re coming because mum says you have to.

Louis groans, tipping his head back. “Can I take a wild guess at something?” Lottie looks at him confusedly. “Are the Styles’ coming too?”

Lottie grins at him. “You betcha! C’mon, Lou, we gotta get going!”

 

Ten minutes later Louis is standing and looking at a boat. A proper boat that his entire family will be sitting on and doing whatever you do on boats. Louis hasn’t been on a boat since the last time he was in Bonnet; not a lot of boating goes on in New York City. They’re joined by Anne, Robin, Harry, Matt, and Jacob - no Gemma and Kate. Harry doesn’t say a word to Louis when he first gets on, and Louis isn’t expecting him to. Louis is well aware of what he did, what happened between them, and he knows this shit can’t be happening.

They made out last night because they’re nostalgic. They made out because they were drunk. They were in love eight years ago. They are not in love now. Louis makes himself at home in a corner of the boat, as far away from the commotion as he can get. He’s on this boat, on this family excursion, because he has to be. That doesn’t mean he feels like immersing himself in all of it.

“Why’re you sitting alone at the complete opposite end of the boat?” Lottie asks. “You’re not in a pissy mood, are you?”

“I just don’t know why y’always assume I’m in a pissy mood.” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lottie stands above him with her arms folded in the same manner, looking at her older brother somewhat disapprovingly. She looks around for a moment before going to the cooler and bringing him back a beer. “Mum told me that she plans on getting drunk tonight. Can you believe that?” Lottie asks, sitting down next to Louis.

Louis opens his beer and finds his mother across the boat. “Mum’s gonna get _drunk?”_

“Apparently. Which means once she’s drunk enough, I’ll be getting drunk too. Then we can all be drunk together!”

“What makes you think I’ll get drunk too?” Louis asks, laughing.

“Louis, you have gone drinking just about every single day and night since we got here. You’re going to be drunk tonight. Especially if mum’s making cocktails.” Lottie tells him, like that answer is the most obvious thing in the world. “She said her and Dan are putting Ernie and Doris to bed earlier than normal and getting started drinking.”

“Good for her,” Louis nods. “I didn’t really think she had it in her anymore.”

Lottie jabs him in the ribs for his joke. “Of _course_ she does, and she deserves it. I heard you came home drunk last night.”

Louis knew it was only a matter of time before that came up, frankly he’s surprised that he made it this far. “I was… slightly intoxicated.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a bit of an understatement. You’re driving mum absolutely mad. I’ll be damned if you ruin mum’s entire vacation here, Louis,” Lottie says it simply, sternly, like she’s thought about it for a long time and just finally felt the need to say it.

“I’m not going to ruin her vacation.” Louis rolls her eyes. He uses one hand to produce his cigarettes from his pocket, which makes Lottie make a sound of disgust. “Lots.” he says, voice softer than usual.

“Yeah?”

“He wrote a song about me.”

“What?”

“Harry. He wrote a song about me. Niall said it was really, like, sappy or whatever. I don’t really know what that means, or what I should do about it. I just… we can’t date again.

Lottie hums and nods her head; like what Louis just admitted was casual. “Harry’s got the fishing rod,” she says suddenly. Louis follows her gaze, and sure enough, Harry is gearing up to fish. “That’s sure to be entertaining.”

She completely ignored Louis’ confession, which was more than Louis expected. He anticipated maybe a little guilt trip, or prying, but no. Nothing. He’s somewhat grateful (and somewhat pained by it). He gets up then, patting her on the head, and heads to the other side of the boat, where Harry is standing with Jacob perched in front of him. “Gems lets the kid sit on the edge of the boat like this?”

Harry glances over at him, smiling. “What Gems doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Jake’s fine anyway, right, bub?” Harry asks brightly. Jacob smiles up at him excitedly.

“I don’t think you know anything about fishing, if I remember correctly.” Louis says thoughtfully, watching Harry try to bait the hook. “That always because quite the… mess when we were younger.”

Harry laughs, nodding in agreement. He attempts to cast the line, but fails on the first try. He has the hook caught on the back of his _cutoff denim shorts_ and Louis can’t help but to laugh at him. “Jacob, your uncle Harry knows nothing about fishing. He’s always been terrible at it,” Louis tells the young boy, only serving to make him laugh.

“Can you, I dunno, get me unstuck?” Harry asks.

Louis nods, putting his cigarette between his lips and giving Harry the beer to hold. He crouches down next to Harry and begins carefully beginning to get him unhooked. “Jacob, don’t do any of the things Louis’ doing right now. Never ever,” Harry tells him, referring to the beer and the cigarette, but that obviously goes right over Jacob’s head.

“Keep talking like that and I’m not going to get you unstuck at all,” Louis grumbles, pausing to draw away the cigarette.

“I… guess we could say that my… ass is on the line.”

Louis laughs out loud at that, so hard that he has to take a moment to collect himself before finally getting the hook off of Harry’s shorts. “That was a good one, Styles. I’ll give you that.”

Harry grins proudly, looking carefully at the hook. “Again, _again_!” Jacob cries, giggling like mad.

“You want Harry to get stuck again, right? That was pretty funny wasn’t it, kid?” Louis muses, reaching for the hook again.

“Can you put the cigarette out, please?” Harry begs, voice soft and slightly scolding. Louis rolls his eyes moves to toss it in the water, but Harry smacks him on the cheek. “You’re not throwing that in the water. Find an ashtray or something.”

“Did you just–you just hit me!” Louis exclaims, palm flying up to his face.

“Put out your cigarette.”

“You just hit me _in the face,”_ Louis says under his breath, marching away to find some acceptable way to dispose of his cigarette. He finds an ashtray in the cabin and uses it, and brings it outside with him for later convenience.

He heads back over to Harry, because the kid still has his beer and Louis fully intends on getting that back. “Can I have my beer back please?” he asks, standing there patiently.

Harry shrugs, not even looking at Louis. Louis smacks him, making Harry gasp. “You hit me!”

“Yeah, I did,” Louis says nonchalantly. He reaches over and takes his beer back from Harry’s hand. “You hit me too, in case you don’t remember. You’re not setting a very great example for your nephew, are you, ace?”

With that, he walks away. Louis spends the rest of his time on the boat pretending that Harry isn’t staring at him.

 

If Louis had a dollar for every time his mother has refilled their glasses, Louis would be rich _and_ tipsy. Instead he’s just tipsy. But, Jay is well on her way to getting her two eldest children drunk; which means that she’s already there. The Styles’ are here, because Jay drunkenly called Anne up and _had_ to invite her over, and because they’re always here. Everywhere Louis turns, there is a member of the Styles family and he just can’t get away from them.

Right now, though, Louis isn’t being ambushed by a small clone of Gemma or Harry or Anne or even his own mother. He’s sitting peacefully in a lawn chair by the fire, a drink in one hand, as it should be. The girls are playing Kan Jam, Jay and Dan are both drinking and talking and acting like they’re twentysomething years old together.

“Louis,” someone says suddenly, dropping down in the seat next to him. Louis spoke about his silence far too soon. Louis looks to his right to see not Harry, not Robin, but Tommy - Lottie’s boyfriend. “Can I talk to you?”

“Course, mate. What’s up?” Louis takes a big sip of his drink. This will either be very bad or very good.

“I, uh, I’ve got a question.”

 _A question._ That’s almost never good, Louis has vast experience in the department of ‘I have to ask you a question’ and what comes after that statement. “Lay it on me, then.”

Tommy takes a deep breath. “Well. Lottie and I have been seeing each other for a long time now, and we’ve been talking lately about, like, the future. I know how close you guys are family-wise and I wouldn’t feel right without asking you… I’d love your blessing to marry her, Louis.”

Louis’ shocked. So shocked that he doesn’t know what to _say_ , which rarely ever happens. He can’t believe his sister wants to get _married._ She’s going to get _married._ Except Louis realizes that he hasn’t said anything, and Tommy’s just staring at him and now he looks like a twat, most definitely.

“Shit.” he says finally, looking at Tommy carefully. “Yeah, you can. I’d be a fucking idiot if I told you know, wouldn’t I? _Shit._ You really wanna marry her? Come into all this… madness?” he asks.

Tommy nods. “A hundred percent. I love her, you know? And I just… We’re ready for this. I ran it by Jay and Dan and I’m even gonna talk to Mark—”

“Y’already asked my mum? And she said yes?” Louis’ shocked to hear this. He’s not even offended that he’s the last to know – he doesn’t care about that so long as he _knows._ No, it’s more the fact that his mum didn’t _tell_ him. Sure, it’s meant to be a secret thing but Louis and his mother discuss a lot of things that are probably meant to be kept secret, but none of them have been nearly this big. He lets it slide with Tommy, figuring this is something that should ( _will)_ be taken up with Jay herself.

So Tommy runs off again, leaving Louis alone with his alcohol (which his mum refills _again_ ) and his thoughts (which drive Louis mad _again_ ). He can’t believe his little sister, who’s several years younger than he, is going to get married. Proper walk down the aisle, dress, flowers, the whole lot. And after that probably comes _kids_ , which Louis hardly even wants to think about. But he knows it will happen; because Lottie loves babies and Lottie’s always wanted the white picket fence and will go to extreme measures to get it if necessary, and because Jay wants more little babies since hers are all growing up now. Jay wants babies but more importantly: _grandbabies._ She never fails to make Louis remember this, remember that he should’ve been the first one giving them to her but here he is; twenty eight and single as can be.

It’s probably good that this is happening now. Lottie’s plans and babies and wedding will get Jay worried about that instead of Louis’. At least for a little while.

“Lou!” Harry calls suddenly, sounding kind of far away. Louis tries looking for him, but it’s too dark and there are too many people and Louis’ on the road to having too many drinks. “What song should we play?”

That keys Louis in as to where Harry is. He casts his gaze up to the deck, where Harry is standing and leaning over, presumably looking at Louis. “Uh, I dunno! Surprise me, kid!” he shouts back. Louis doesn’t want to pick the music; his music selection often displeases at least one person and he doesn’t feel like being criticized right now.

Harry starts playing _Location_ by Khalid, a selection Louis doesn’t mind so much. Harry could have put on Taylor Swift and everyone would have been completely fine with it, and even if they weren’t, Harry wouldn’t have cared.

The music somehow lures everyone into sit around the fire. Daisy and Phoebe head inside, because they feel left out of the grown up scene and there’s probably something better on TV anyhow (although, Louis still thinks there’s nothing better than a bit of drunk-talk). Jay has even given Fizzy a drink, Louis notes.

Harry pulls his chair close to Louis’, so close that he’s able to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis looks over at him confusedly. “H? What… what’re you doing?”

“My head feels heavy. Just gotta put it down for a minute,” Harry says, moving even closer up to Louis.

He puts a palm flat on Louis’ chest, exhaling heavily. “Harry. You’re drunk. Really drunk, aren’t you?”

[Harry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnIZ7RMuLpU) hums. “Maybe a little. Not too bad. Why?”

Louis shrugs. “No, uh, no reason.”  
“Gemma!” Jay says suddenly, standing up again with the pitcher of her homemade, very strong mixed drink. “D’you want a drink? There’s plenty to go around.”

Gemma smiles and says no, but she’s obviously forgotten that Johannah is unrelenting. “I’m good, really. I don’t wanna risk it–” Gemma cuts herself off abruptly.

That gets Harry’s attention. He sits bolt upright, almost knocking Louis in the chin _and_ almost knocking the drink out of his hand. “ _Risk it?_ Gem’s, you’re pregnant! Are you pregnant?” Harry accuses, voice the most excited Louis’ ever heard it.

Gemma breaks out into a grin. “Surprise?” she croaks out. “God, Matt’s gonna kill me for saying this.”

Louis isn’t looking at Gemma anymore, but rather Harry, who’s rocketing up on wobbly feet to hug his sister. “You’re having a baby! Another one! I’m putting a hand on your stomach and I’m not bothering to ask,” Louis watches Harry put his big hand on Gemma’s belly, a massive smile on his face. “How could you not tell me the moment you found out? God, I hate you for that but I _love_ that you’re pregnant again! Does it feel any different? How far along are you? Do Jacob and Kate know?”

He keeps asking questions, a dozen a minute, so many that Gemma can’t even answer them, but she’s still smiling and Harry is still _talking._ Louis feels the need to save Gemma, and mainly Harry, before he makes a fool of himself.

“You get to buy more cute baby things and pick godparents and raise another tiny human and–” Louis cuts Harry off by grabbing his arm.

“Louis, Gemma’s having a _baby.”_ Harry tells him, looking at Louis excitedly.

“I know, love. Wanna go for a walk? I heard the Loch Ness Monster is making an appearance down the beach,” Louis says, earning a laugh from Harry.

“That sounds like an opportunity I can’t miss out on,” Harry smiles, linking arms with Louis. “Wait, Gem–”

“C’mon, H. Let’s get going.” Louis practically has to drag Harry away from his pregnant sister, which isn’t surprising at all. Gemma mouths a _thank you_ at Louis as they stop and grab their drinks before heading off.

“God, I can’t believe Gemma’s having a _baby,”_ Harry gushes, stopping Louis short to bend down and take his shoes off, leaving them right there in the sand. Louis follows suit, because there’s more chance of Harry remembering his shoes if Louis has to remember his own.

“I know. I was there.” Louis nods.

They walk a little further before Louis makes the suggestion to sit down in the sand. Harry immediately drops down, grunting and leaning back on his hands. “Where’s this famous Loch Ness that you speak of?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his drink.

“Ah, he only comes out if you call him daddy and dance in a circle for three minutes and seven seconds,” Louis says, sitting down beside Harry.

Harry barks out a laugh, looking over at him. “You’ve been waiting to use that one, haven’t you?”

“I have. I’m assuming neither one of us feels comfortable performing such a task, so we might not see the great Loch Ness tonight.”

Harry laughs again but doesn’t say anything, and Louis knows that he’s thinking about babies again. “Still can’t believe Gemma’s pregnant, huh?”

“I’m completely torn between sitting here with you and running back to Gemma to talk about the kid,” Harry says honestly. Louis laughs, looking over at him. “I just can’t believe she’s pregnant again. She’s gonna have _another_ baby. She already has two. Gemma is hogging all of the Styles’ babies. By the time I have any, it’ll be uncool to have babies in the Styles’ family. And I _want_ babies, I don’t want Gemma to take all of them.”

Harry’s pouting, Louis really can’t believe it. “Yeah?” Louis asks softly.

“You know that I want babies.” Harry says pointedly, looking away from Louis and down at his almost-empty cup. “I’ve always wanted them. I really thought I’d have them by now. I’m twenty six, I said I’d be married by the time I was twenty five. Then at twenty six I’d do four in four.”

“Four in four?” Louis asks curiously.

“Four kids in four years. I’d have four by the time I was thirty one and then if I wanted more, I could have more,” Harry shrugs.

Louis remembers Harry wanting kids, lots of kids. Even though he was practically a kid himself, Harry loved and wanted kids. He was great with them, babies always loved Harry just as much as he loved them.

“That’s… a big plan. Ambitious.” Louis tells him, and Harry nods, sniffling. “Harry… Are you crying?”

“No,” Harry says, but it’s obvious that he’s choked up and _crying._ Over babies. “I just can’t believe she’s having another baby.”

“As you’ve said several times. Isn’t Gemma supposed to be the moody one?” Louis muses, bumping Harry’s shoulder teasingly.

Harry looks up at him purely to glare. Louis laughs out loud at him. “It’s only because it’s making me realize how much I want my own. I’m happy-sad about it, okay? Leave me alone, don’t make fun of me.”

Louis holds his hands up in surrender. “I will not make fun of you for it, I promise. D’you wanna head back? My drink is running out.”

Harry shrugs and looks at his own drink. “I can hold out a little. And, besides, I like sitting here. It’s quiet. Pretty.”

Louis nods in agreement. “So we’ll stay.”

They stay on the beach, talking and laughing and drunkenly reminiscing about their years at Bonnet. Louis can’t say he hasn’t missed this – talking to Harry like he is. Having the company of someone so smart, someone who knows him so well, it’s rather refreshing. Louis either works with kids at school and their partially developed brains (not that they aren’t creative and fascinating) or with helplessly boring people at Liam’s label. Harry Styles always keeps Louis on his toes, unlike the kids or middle aged men he usually deals with.

He also can’t say he hasn’t missed Bonnet itself – the house and the beach and the pub and the small town. No matter how much he may _act_ like he doesn’t miss Bonnet and all that came with it, he most definitely cannot say he hasn’t missed how everything used to be; the days they’d spend running (or driving, when the days finally came) around town, wreaking havoc in the lives of the other vacationing families and their own mothers. They’d get up early and stay out late, never finding a dull moment and if they ever did, it was still good. Dull moments were spent at the beach or on the car ride home from a wild day, where everyone is quiet and just thinking back happily on everything that happened that day, and even then, the dull moments were never a drag.

Some of Louis’ best memories come from Bonnet, and he only continues making more, he realizes as he’s sitting here drunk on the beach with Harry Styles.

 _if you’re losing your soul  
_ _and you know it, then you’ve  
_ _still got a soul to lose.  
_ _-charles bukowski_

“Alright. This is probably one of my favorite songs ever, and I feel like it’s not entirely well known, so I’d love to play it for all of you.” Harry looks out at the audience, filled with faces that are now familiar after playing so many shows in the same little pub. He can see Liam and Gemma and Niall and _Louis._ “This is  _[Hearts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20pAJPNaAyw)_ _Don’t Break Around Here._ ”

Harry loves this song, and he takes it quite personally. He finds that hearts do not break around here, here being Bonnet (except for the one time his heart _did_ break around here). Harry puts his all into singing this song, he can see Liam, Niall, and Louis putting their all into this song, he finds it absolutely magnificent. He’s glad he chose to sing this song.

After he sings it, Niall tries to get him to drink. Harry feels like he’s been drunk more than he’s been sober, and this summer is killing his liver. He passes on the drink. Louis doesn’t pass on the drink, but Harry hadn't expected him to. Louis rarely turns down a drink.

“My fucking mum offered to come and pick me up tonight,” Louis says, laughing. “She doesn’t trust me ever since I drove home from the baseball field.”

Niall laughs. “What are we, sixteen again?”

“No, but she’s acting like I am.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I told her I was walking. She put the keys in her pocket before I left.”

“Harry,” Niall says suddenly, completely diverting the topic from Louis, which is a right tragedy in Harry’s opinion. “I fucking love that Ed Sheeran song, what’s it called again?”

“Oh, _Hearts Don’t Break Around Here.”_ Harry replies, smiling. “S’one of my favorites of all time.”

“Every night I’ll kiss you, you say in my ear _oh we’re in love aren't we_?” Niall sings obnoxiously, but still manages to sound at least somewhat good, which Harry finds at least a little bit admirable.

While Liam and Niall keep singing, Harry turns to Louis. “So you’re not really drinking tonight, then?” he asks.

Louis shakes his head. “I’m afraid mum’s gonna have a breathalyzer waiting for me when I come home. Plus, I don’t really feel like stumbling home alone when we’re done here, so.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t be alone,” Harry smiles. “I’d be stumbling home with you.”

“You’re not getting drunk.” Louis says pointedly. “I’d be leaning on you the whole way home.”

The smile still doesn’t leave Harry’s face. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

It most definitely not be the first time. There were many nights where they’d led each other home, drunk or not. They went everywhere together, they were a dynamic duo at every event; both family and social. At family events everyone always wanted to wonder what their life plans were: what they wanted to do, if they’d stay together, how long they’d been together. At social events, with their friends and the beer, questions were more vulgar and intrusive. They asked if they’d fucked and if so how many times, people asked if they’d break up before uni or after uni, they asked if one of them ever felt like cheating. Louis answered all of those questions honestly.

The family questions were what scared Harry the most, but Louis was never afraid. The first time Louis The Boyfriend came over for dinner, rather than just Louis From Next Door, he sat bravely next to Anne, who can be intimidating when she wants to be, and across from Harry and Robin. Harry was nervous the entire time. He was only sixteen, and bringing Louis home as a _boyfriend_ rather than the boy next door was something entirely different. Harry remembers Louis pulled out all the stops that night; he brought Anne flowers and firmly shook Robin’s hand and kept all of his sarcasm and inappropriate comments to himself. He remembers Louis challenging both Anne and Robin, how Anne would ask an intruding question that would’ve sent any other person - men and women alike - running for the hills, but Louis just stood his ground and answered and impressed.

They go way back, Harry and Louis.

 

Harry and Louis find themselves walking each other home, like they often do. “Are you drunk?” Harry asks, glancing over at Louis.

“Tipsy only. I won’t fail the breathalyzer, but I won’t necessarily _pass_ either.” Louis grins, shoving his hands in his pockets.

They’re all alone and Louis looks really pretty and Harry’s still a little foggy from his set (he gets like that sometimes) and he’s entirely foggy from Louis and Harry finds himself speaking before he can stop it. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he blurts.

“Harry.” Louis says disapprovingly. “You can’t say that.”

“[Why](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljXSjIph5ZM&t=129s) can’t I, Louis?” Harry stops dead in his tracks now. “You really think after this summer here I’m going to be able to go home and just be _normal?_ You think that’s what I _want_ to do? Do you think I _ever_ went back to whatever the fuck normal is after you?”

Harry’s snapped, he’s gone absolutely mad, and he just can’t stop himself from talking. Louis looks at him sadly. “H. You know I don’t like how things ended between us. And you can’t think that I found it easy, you can’t think that I find what’s happening now easy. Because it’s not.”

“Well you’re fucking acting like it is! And I don’t know what to _do,_ Louis. I don’t know what to do.”

Louis sighs. “I don’t either, Harry. But yelling at me in the street isn’t going to help. Not a single day goes by where I don’t think about you, I always wonder how you’re doing.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re only saying that because you’re drunk,” Louis isn’t exactly drunk, Harry knows, but this isn’t too far off from the truth.

“No, I’m not. I’m not drunk.”

“Then you’re only saying it because you know it’s what I want to hear. You think that you’ll just say it and come tomorrow morning, I’ll probably forget all about everything that you’ve put me through and we’ll just continue on as normal. You’ll go back to hating me and I’ll go back to pretending we’re not feeling things for each other. You’re saying it because you think it’s what I want to hear, it’s what’ll tide me over until the next time you decide to acknowledge me.”

“Harry–”

“No, Louis. I’m saying this while you’re listening. Honestly, I know that we’re going to go back to pretending that nothing happened tomorrow and I’m trying to be alright with that, because I don’t think there’s much I can do about it. But the worst part of everything, Louis, the breakup and the eight years and even the fucking bull that’s happening now, the worst part is that I _waited_ for you. I waited weeks after your last summer here, fuck, I waited _years_ for you to contact me, come crawling back and tell me that you fucked up. I would’ve forgiven you instantly, I would’ve taken you back and said we can stay together forever. I would’ve moved to New York with you. All you had to do was ask.”

Louis is looking at him with shock. Louis Tomlinson is silent, speechless, for the first time in a long time, Harry thinks. That doesn’t last long.

“You’re a dirty fighter,” Louis remarks, more under his breath than out loud, but Harry hears him anyway. Harry would’ve believed him, taken that as a win, if he hadn’t noticed the growing smirk on Louis’ face.

Because no matter how dirty Harry fights, Louis will always go dirtier. He’s the dirtiest fighter Harry knows, of all the dirtiest fighters in the world. “It’s been eight years. We dated when we were young, when we didn’t know what we wanted. We’re eight years older now and we’ve only kissed when we were drunk. Harry, we are not in love anymore because we’re not some fucking Nicholas Sparks film. We’re older and wiser and eight years removed and it’s done, okay? I’m sorry I hurt you, I’ll tell you that much, over and over again. I’m sorry that I hurt you and God knows I wish I hadn’t, but I did and it’s over now. We’re done. You can stop waiting.”

With that, Louis turns and walks away without waiting for Harry. Harry walks the rest of the way home by himself, finding his mother still awake. She traps him in the kitchen, making light conversation, until Harry says he wants to get some air and steps out onto the back porch.

Alone again, he takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. He looks for the constellations he taught himself so long ago, the constellations he taught _Louis_ about so long ago. Nothing jumps out at him, for once, so his gaze settles only on the moon. “I don’t love him anymore,” he says. He’s saying it to himself, or maybe to the moon, but Harry’s not sure either one of them believe that.

“What was that, love?” Anne asks, coming and standing beside him.

“I just got in, like, a fight with Louis.” Harry tells her, leaning against the railing. “I told him that I’d waited for him, after we broke up that summer.”

“And what’d he say?”

“That it’s been eight years and I can stop waiting. That we’re not going to happen again, so I should just give it up. Basically, he told me to fuck right off,” Harry laughs, beginning to feel tears pool in his eyes. He’s just endlessly grateful he’s crying in front of his mum rather than crying in front of Louis.

“He’s always been a bit harsh, hasn’t he?” Anne asks softly, rubbing Harry’s arm.

Harry shakes his head. “He’s not harsh he’s just… honest.”

Anne doesn’t say anything, probably because she doesn’t want to disagree with him. She loves Louis to death, obviously, but she can never forget how he broke her son’s heart.

“D’you think he knows that I’m still in love with him?” Harry asks. He hears how choked up he sounds and _hates_ it. “Because Lottie does. And you and Gem do. And Niall. And Jay I bet. Everyone seems to know I’m still in love with Louis _except_ for Louis.”

Anne sighs heavily. “I think he has to know. He’s just in denial about it. And, Haz, there’s probably a part of him that’s still in love with you.”

“Why’s he do this, then? Why does he act like such a _douche_?”

“Because, love. He’s… scared. You and him were serious and you can be serious again and he’s scared. His sister’s getting engaged and Gemma’s having babies and he’s not getting any younger.”

Sometimes Harry thinks other people know Louis better than Louis knows himself.

********

Harry walks into the diner at half past ten, only to find Louis sitting in the booth that Harry always sits in. He’s with Fizzy, and they’ve got an overwhelming number of pancakes between the two of them. Harry can’t move for a moment, he can’t believe Louis’ sitting at _his_ table.

“Someone’s staring at us,” Louis tells Fizzy, obviously knowing full well that it’s Harry standing there. “Did we take your seat, Styles?”

“You’re sitting in my booth.”

“Actually, it’s our booth. I was just telling Fiz about it.”

Louis remembers that. Of course he does, Harry thinks, he’s not an idiot. He doesn’t have a poor memory, in fact Louis has a brilliant memory and he’s very smart. Harry nods slowly. “You’re eating a lot of pancakes,” he says needlessly. He just wants to keep the conversation going.

Even after what happened with Louis last night, the whole yelling-in-the-street thing, how mean Louis was, Harry still can’t stay away. He still wants to talk to Louis, about any and everything. “We’ve got a lotta appetite, you know that, Styles. Us Tomlinson's have to eat.”

Fizzy giggles, looking between Louis and Harry and the pancakes with an amused look on her face. “We’re supposed to bring any leftovers home, mum’s orders, but we’re on a mission to not bring anything viable home. Harry, Louis has challenged Tommy to a race on the beach to see if he’s worthy of marrying Lottie - because he proposed yesterday, if you didn’t know.”

“I think I did hear that, yes.”

“Well, they’re racing and you should come over, if you want. Lou will probably get drunk either before, during, or after, and I can’t decide which one’s better. We need people in Tommy’s corner,” she winks, pushing a plate of pancakes closer to him. “Have a pancake.”

 

Harry thought Fizzy was joking; Louis and Tommy having a foot race on the beach to prove his worthiness seemed ridiculous at first. But then Harry thought a bit more about it and no matter how out-there the Tomlinson suggestion sounds, that probably just means the suggestion is most definitely serious, and it will come into place.

Daisy is currently drawing a line in the sand while Tommy and Louis stand there facing each other like they’re at a WWE weigh-in. The sun is setting over the water as they’re both holding beers in their hands, drinking while looking at each other with a menacing look that Harry can’t decide whether or not it’s fake or completely real. It’s probably a combination of the two.

“The rules are as follows,” Fizzy announces, standing before Tommy and Louis. They’re both barefooted in the sand, placing their beers in the sand beside them. “You will race from here to mum’s rock. If Tommy wins, he can marry Lottie with no complaints or criticism from Louis. Louis will host the bachelor party, whether or not Tommy makes Louis his best man. If Louis wins, he can be as annoying as he so pleases. He can throw the bachelor party if he so pleases. That’s all he gets, Lottie and Tommy will still get married because it’s not mid-century Europe and we don’t need to arrange marriages anymore.”

“How dirty can we play?” Louis asks, beginning to bounce in place.

“I, frankly, do not care. Just don’t kill each other, because that would be bad. Racers, are you ready? Alright, great. Ready… Set… Go!”

“I don’t understand how you ever kept up with him,” Anne shakes her head in disbelief, watching as Louis takes off down the sand side-by-side with Tommy.

Harry shrugs. “It was all about balance, I guess,” he says simply. He knows that himself and Louis were (and still are) polar opposites. Louis is fast in all the places Harry’s slow, he’s loud in all the places Harry’s soft and quiet. But Harry is one of the few people who knows that there’s another side to Louis, one that comes out behind closed doors. That Louis is the one Harry would rather keep to himself because it’s _rare_ and _beautiful._

“He lost,” Anne says suddenly. “Louis, I mean. He lost.”

Sure enough, Harry looks at Louis only to see him making a walk of shame back to where he’d left his beer. From there, he trudges up to the deck. “No unlimited bragging rights for me,” he says, pushing himself up on the railing beside Harry and Anne. “But Tommy’s a good kid, so I’m somewhat alright with it.”

“You hate losing,” Harry tells him. “You’re not okay with this loss.”

“Harry, you are right about that. But I’m good at coping, and that’s what I’ll do with this loss.” Louis admits, swinging his legs back and forth. “It’s not too bad. I gotta have a smoke, though. I don’t want to do that here.”

“I thought you quit,” Harry says, just like he always does.

“C’mon, ace. Let it go already.” Louis rolls his eyes, pushing himself down again.

Louis walks away, going back down the steps of the deck and heading far enough away from everyone before lighting his cigarette. “He’s got another nickname for you?” Anne asks, looking over at Harry.

“What do you mean, another nickname?”

“He’s always had nicknames for you.” Anne shrugs. “He’s calling you by them again, I see. It’s cute.”

“ _Mum._ I told you, he’s a different person now. We’re just friends.”

“Harold, that boy is still the same. He’s still bubbly and sarcastic and drunk and loud and chain-smokes and I’d bet he still smokes pot–”

“We never smoked pot, mum, oh my god.”

Anne rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to lie to me, H. You know damn well I think there’s worse things you could be doing than drinking and smoking pot. Like smoking cigarettes. Or doing cocaine.”

Harry always appreciated the level of relaxation his mother possessed when it came to Harry’s behavior growing up; her and Jay were always very similar in that over the summer. Despite Anne’s constant reassurance that Harry would not be penalized if he drank or had sex or smoked weed, Harry still hid those things from her as best he could. He just didn’t want to be discussing those things with his mother, as much as he absolutely adores her.

Louis is running up the stairs a second later, halting any further discussion about him. “I know you were talking about me,” he says first, resting his elbows on Harry and Anne’s shoulders.

“What tells you that?” Harry asks.

“The look on your mum’s face. She has her _wow, Louis is so incredible - oh, here he comes, stop talking about him_ face on,” he says, and earns a laugh from Anne.

“I’ll leave you boys alone now, no one wants to hang out with their mum for so long.”

“Nonsense, Anne. If there’s anyone I’d want to hang out with, it would be you.” Louis gasps.

She leaves anyway, muttering about Louis being a charmer. “Y’got my mum wrapped around your finger,” Harry tells him. “Even after all this time.”

Louis shrugs, leaning his back against the railing. “I’m quite the charmer, what can I say? Now, you were talking about me. What’s your nickname for me, ace?”

“I’m not telling you,” Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest and standing up straight beside Louis. He needs to stand his ground, because Louis is very convincing and he’ll have Harry telling all of his secrets before Harry gets even a lick of alcohol in his system.

“C’mon, what’d you call me?” Louis muses. “I call you ace, and kid, and H, and I _still_ call you curly. What do you call me?”

“I didn’t have one for you.” Harry says firmly. “I still don’t.”

“Oh, come on. Just tell me. Or else we’ll forget about whatever  _[this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKPKSK1nCKY)_ is.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “That’s rather manipulative of you, Louis. You know full well you don’t _want_ anything between us. But, if it means that much to you, I called you blue eyes. When I first met you, and I still do, sometimes. Depending on who I’m talking to.”

Louis is silent for a moment. Harry thinks he might not say anything, and he finds that even more pathetic than anything, but then he takes a deep breath. “You’re right. That was shit of me to say. But you know we… can’t be something, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got a girl at home or what-fucking-ever. It’s probably for the best we broke up eight years ago, you know? Otherwise we would’ve ended up married or something and then we’d just be miserable now, eight years after the fact and we’d have to get divorced!” Harry rambles, laughing at the ridiculousness of the statement he’s making. Louis doesn’t look as amused.

“Yeah, well… if that did happen, I would’ve made my lawyer fucking _rich_ if I’d had to divorce you,” Louis spits. He’s usually better at comebacks, but all those times he’s been good with them have been times he’s come ready to fight; this time Harry’s got him off-guard. Harry can’t say he doesn’t like having the upperhand.

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense!” Harry exclaims.

Louis mutters something under his breath as he walks away abruptly, heading into the house. Harry follows, demanding to know what he said. Louis stops in the kitchen, at the liquor cabinet, conveniently giving Harry the chance to corner him. “Tell me what you mumbled under your breath like a fucking seven year old, Louis.”

“I said that you were being ridiculous,” Louis admits, turning around to face Harry. They’re closer than Harry had thought, but he doesn’t dare back up. The distance will have a hold on Louis and it’ll throw him off even more.

“Wow, that’s very big and mature of you.” Harry says sarcastically.

“Oh, fuck off already.” Louis groans, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t been able to keep to yourself the entire time that we’ve been here, have you realized that? If you weren’t so fucking infatuated we’d have a fuckton less problems right now, wouldn’t we?”

“You’re the one who– you fucking string me along and you _know_ you’re doing it! God, I fucking…” he trails off, staring at Louis. Louis’ stupid face, his stupid pretty face.

He has a habit of proving Louis right, Harry thinks to himself, as he leans forward and _kisses Louis._ Because he has no self control. But Louis surrenders, and kisses him back. It’s angry and it’s frantic and hot and _good._ Harry goes for as long as he can before coming up for air. “I fucking hate you,” he breathes, holding on tight to the collar of Louis’ shirt so he doesn’t go anywhere. “I hate you so much for everything that you did to me.”

“Then why haven’t you let me go yet?” Louis asks, chasing after Harry’s lips with his own.

They kiss again for a moment, just a minute, before Harry breaks away again. “Because you’re fucking ridiculous and hot and pretty and I don’t know how to resist you. And I know after we’re done here we’re gonna go back outside like nothing ever happened and I’m trying really hard to be okay with that. The same thing happened last night and I know I’ll probably go home forgetting about everything that happened this summer.”

“I meant it when I told you that I never stopped thinking about you,” Louis whispers.

Harry finally backs away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and clearing his throat. He’s going down on a sinking ship, and he’s losing hope faster than that ship is sinking. “Now would be a great time to get drunk, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry pounds a few shots right there in the kitchen, while Louis watches him do it. Then they head back outside, down to the fire. Fizzy shoves a stick, marshmallow, chocolate, and graham crackers into their hands.

“I’ll roast yours for you,” Louis offers, voice gentle and soft as he takes the stick from Harry.

Harry thanks him and drops down in a folding chair near the fire. He doesn’t talk to anyone, not even Louis when he sits down next to Harry. Louis isn’t paying any attention to the s’more he’s attempting to make, he gets too caught up in talking to Tommy about Ed Sheeran, and he’s going to miss where he’s meant to put the top graham cracker on. Harry reaches forward and grabs Louis’ wrist, guiding it to the s’more properly. Louis doesn’t even acknowledge the help, he just takes it like it’s normal.

Lottie reaches out and nudges Harry’s shin, giving him a knowing look. Harry flips off and sits back in his chair.

When Louis hands Harry his s’more, he finally says, “Thanks for helping me with that, H.”

 

Harry Styles is most definitely the drunkest he’s ever been. Once his mum went back home, he just _went_ for it with the drinking. Harry’s sitting on the dock, trying to convince himself that it’s supposed to be rocking back and forth, when Louis calls his name. Harry’s head is too heavy to pick up and turn around, but he knows it’s Louis.

Louis stands in front of him, looking freakishly tall from Harry’s angle. Maybe it’s the angle or maybe the moonlight or maybe just Harry’s alcohol consumption. He can’t bring himself to figure out which. “Harry. Niall told me that you wrote and sang a song about me on the fifth of July, at the pub. What’d you write?”

Harry looks up at Louis, hoping that Louis can see how drunk and ashamed and upset he is. “Why do you even care? It won’t make you see anything any different or–”

“I wish you’d stop chalking me up to be a complete douche, Harry. I know it’s been eight years but I didn’t think you’d lost _all_ faith in me.”

Harry smiles sadly. “I definitely haven’t.”

“So what’d you write?”

Harry thinks for a moment. “If you really care, if you really wanna know, then come to the pub tomorrow night. We won’t get drunk, not even tipsy. I’ll play the song as part of the setlist. You’ll know which one it is when you hear it, trust me.”

Louis takes a deep breath. “Fine. Deal.” he says curtly. “D’you want me to walk you home? I’m afraid to leave you sitting on this dock.”

Harry nods, holding his hands up for Louis to grab and haul him up. He leans on Louis the entire way up to his house, where Louis comes in with him and goes all the way to Harry’s bedroom. Harry strips down to his pants with Louis right there, which, in hindsight, probably won’t look like a good idea; but Harry can’t bring himself to care at this moment.

“Here, love,” he hears a soft voice, a woman, his mum, say. But she’s not talking to him, she’s talking to Louis.

“I’m putting the Advil and water right here, kid. I’m even moving the bin closer to the bed just in case you hurl. I’ll bring you a greasy hangover breakfast tomorrow, I promise.” Louis says, voice low and caring. All Harry can do is grunt in reply.

Before he falls asleep, he catches just a bit of whatever his mother is saying to Louis: “ _You’re hurting him again, Louis Tomlinson, and I can’t stand to see it happen.”_

 _sometimes hell is the person  
_ _who promised you something  
_ _heavenly. the devil is good at  
_ _pretending to be everything you want.  
_ _-r.h. sin_

Louis welcomes himself into the Styles home at noon, after the rest of the family (minus Harry) have gone out to lunch. Louis convinced them to leave Harry in the wake of the awful hangover that he’s sure to have, and that Louis would do his best to get him back on his feet again. When Louis checks on Harry, he’s still sound asleep.

He busies himself in the kitchen, putting away dishes for Anne, raiding the cabinets for snacks, sitting on the countertop while scrolling through his phone. At around twelve thirty, he hears the shower upstairs go on, which means Harry Styles is still alive.

Ten minutes later, Harry trudges downstairs with a beanie on _and_ the hood of his Packers sweatshirt, as if the double layer of protection somehow makes sounds less… loud.

Louis grins at him, hopping off the countertop. “Oh, finally. Was worried I’d have to call an ambulance or something.”

“I need you to take your voice from a ten to about a negative three,” Harry says softly.

“Did you take the Advil?”

Harry nods, plopping down on an island stool and slumping over the countertop. Louis opens the fridge to get the breakfast, heats it up in the microwave, and gets a plate and a glass from the cabinets. It’s a series of rather loud sounds that Louis can’t do much about, that Harry groans for the duration of.

“I’ve got pancakes and bacon for you, and the best coffee Bonnet has to offer.”

“Mhm, you went to Marty’s. Even though you were literally just there,” Harry muses, pulling himself upright again to eat and drink. “I woke up so fucking late, I’m not even gonna get to run. I’ll have to do it later, when the sun is going down, like some kind of vampire freak.”

Louis laughs. “That wouldn’t be the first thing I called you for going on an evening run, but alright I guess.”

“What would be the first?” Harry asks, delving into his Marty’s breakfast.

“Crazy. Insane. Out of your mind. A junkie, an endorphin junkie. A–”

“I get it. Ten to a negative three, please.” Harry begs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I play at the pub at eight. You’ll come, right?”

Louis nods. He made a promise to Harry last night; Louis dug the song up again and he asked for it and Harry asked for him to come watch, so of course Louis will come. “Yeah, H. I’ll come.”

They don’t talk while Harry eats, which is a blessing. Louis thinks this is a pretty monumental hangover he’s got, and he’s not sure how Harry is going to recover before his gig tonight. Harry eats his entire greasy hangover breakfast without saying a single word. He doesn’t ask Louis to leave, so he stays. And sits in the silence, which is rather boring.

“Oh, god. I think I’m gonna throw up,” Harry groans, tipping his head back. “Take this away from me.” he says, pushing his plate towards Louis.

Louis takes the plate and moves it next to the sink, further away from Harry. “You’re not gonna throw up.”

Harry shakes his head, standing up and heading for the bathroom. Louis groans, waiting to hear if he does or not. But nothing comes. Louis waits a moment before making his way down the hall to the bathroom. Harry’s laying on the floor in front of the toilet, his hood and hat still pulled on over his head.

“Shit, Haz. You might wanna take the night off from the pub tonight,” Louis tells him, crouching down behind him. He goes to reach out and rub Harry’s back, but hesitates and ultimately retracts his hand.

“No, I can’t. Get paid for that shit, need to get paid.” Harry moans. “C’mere, need your lap to lay in, the floor’s hurting my head.”

Louis, again, hesitates, but this time follows through with his action and lets Harry put his head in Louis’ lap. “If you throw up on me, Styles, I’m going to have to kill you. It’s the only option I’ll have.”

Harry laughs, weakly, like it pains him; which Louis doesn’t doubt that it does. “This is why I don’t like big drinking. Where’d my family go? It’s quiet here,” Harry whispers.

“Lunch. I convinced them to leave you here. Figured you’d be miserable with a hangover and that you wouldn’t really want to deal with… all that.”

“You thought right.” Harry hums. “Thanks for bringing me breakfast. And I’m assuming you brought me inside last night, so thanks for that too. And thanks for nursing me back to health.”

“You’re welcome, kid. We should try to get you up. You should drink water.”

Harry nods in agreement, but makes no attempt to move. Louis laughs at him, which makes Harry swat at him. It’s a lame attempt to combat Louis’ poking fun at him, but at least Harry tries. Louis finally gets him up on two feet and back to the bedroom. He gives Harry props, it only takes about five minutes when it definitely could (and should) have taken longer with the state Harry’s in.

“I’ll get you water and another Advil and then you can sleep, alright?” Louis suggests, pulling the duvet up over Harry’s shoulder. He rushes back downstairs and gets a tall glass of water and another couple Advil and goes back up. Harry’s already almost asleep. “Haz, you gotta drink this before you go to sleep. I know you want to sleep but I don’t want you to be dehydrated.”

Harry groans, sitting up again. He takes a couple gulps from the water, knocks back the advil, and lays down again. “Sleeping before the set is so risky,” Harry mumbles.

“It’s alright, ace. You play at eight, right? I’ll wake you up at six so you have time to take another shower.”

“Thank you so much, Louis,” Harry sighs, snuggling into the bed.

Louis leaves him be after that. He cleans up in the kitchen, throwing out the hangover breakfast. Once the kitchen has no trace of a grumpy hungover boy, Louis heads back home.

“Where were you?” Jay asks, looking at Louis pointedly.

“Nursing Harry’s hangover.” Louis replies. “I think he said that was the most he drank in a long time, and he didn’t puke last night, so I’m not surprised the hangover is absolute hell.”

“Louis,” she says, sighing. Louis knows that she’s going to say something he definitely won’t like. “I heard you arguing with Harry last night. In the kitchen?”

“You heard that? Where… where were you?”

“I was on the deck, Louis. I was coming inside but I heard you yelling and I stopped and I _guess_ I eavesdropped - though I admit it was wrong - but I did. And I heard. You two are mean to each other, you know?”

“Mum,” Louis groans. “Please don’t meddle like this. I really, really wish you wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you just _told_ me things, Lou! You used to tell me everything, then you become some big shot city kid and forgot all about your poor mum. You know I don’t judge you for anything that you’ve ever done, I accept you all the time and I support all of your decisions. Why won’t you talk to me about Harry?”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about, mum. I promise you. We fight sometimes but we’re both just really stubborn, so that’s why. We’re friends, that’s all. I’m nursing his hangover because I can’t count on one hand the amount of times he helped me through mine. We’re _friends.”_

Jay takes a deep breath. “Okay, Lou. I’m sorry for prodding. I just… worry about you, you know that.”

“I know. And since you worry so much, I’ll inform you of my plans tonight before I head out the door. At around six I have to make sure Harry’s awake so he can get ready to play down at the pub. Then before eight I’ll be heading down there myself, I promised him I’d come watch his set tonight.”

His mother arches his eyebrows. “Any particular reason?”

Louis shrugs. “He just wanted me to come watch. He was drunk, was ready to beg me. I caved so he could at _least_ save some dignity.”

“Ah, I see. Okay, well. You’ll find yourself a meal there, I assume?”

“I will, and I’ll drink water. The whole night. I think Harry and I both need to lay off for a night, at least.”

“Give your liver some time to recuperate.” Jay remarks, teasingly. “The older you get the more of an alcoholic you seem like, you know. Even if you say you aren’t one.”

“I’m _not._ It’s just because it’s summer and we’re on a family holiday, mum. I promise you. I drink far less now than I used to, actually, you’ll be happy to know.”

She scoffs. “Well, I’m not sure that makes me _happy,_ entirely.”

“Right, sorry. Alright, so. Yeah. That’s all I’ve got planned for today.”

“Great, do something with Ernie, then.”

 

Louis plays outside with Ernest for the afternoon, alternating between the water and playing footie and eating snacks, until it gets close enough to six that Louis feels he can wake up Harry. Robin is the only one in the house, and he lets Louis roam free once Louis explains what he’s doing there.

“Haz,” Louis says softly, nudging the bedroom door open. “It’s nearly six, you’ve gotta wake up.”

Harry doesn’t move, which Louis isn’t surprised by. Louis sighs, going to the bedside and poking Harry’s shoulder. “You have to wake _up_ Harry. You’ve been sleeping for the entire damn day, and I wish I was exaggerating when I said that. I don’t think I’ve ever even slept this long with a hangover, and that’s saying something. I’m the Hangover King, Styles.”

Harry groans loudly, pulling the comforter up over his head as if it’ll make Louis go away. “I’m just gonna sleep for the rest of my life.”

“C’mon, you don’t feel any better?” Louis asks, pulling the blanket down again.

“I do. I just don’t wanna get up.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving until you’re in the shower, ace. That’s a promise I’m not going back on.” he states, crawling to the center of the bed and sitting cross-legged. “I’m going to sit here until you get in the shower.”

Harry rolls over to look at him. “You’re a pain in the fucking arse, you know?”

Louis shrugs. “Eh, I do what I can. Shower, now.”

Harry grumbles something under his breath that Louis doesn’t care enough to follow up on. He putters around the room for a moment, grabbing things to take into the bathroom, before turning and looking at Louis again. “Thanks for, uh, looking after me. Waking me up and stuff, making sure I didn’t die. It was nice.”

“Not a complete douche, Styles. Don’t forget.” Louis says softly. “I’m gonna go outside, have a smoke, I’ll see you at the bar?”

Harry nods. “I’ll see you in about an hour or so, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis gets out and back home as fast as he can, wanting to avoid Anne and Gemma and his own mother. On the safety of his own balcony, he smokes a cigarette. And another. On his third, he’s hit with a memory. He was at a Bonnet party, he was sixteen, it was his first time getting smashed somewhere other than in someone’s basement. Himself and Harry were simply dating at the time, no boyfriend label on it yet mainly because Harry seemed so much _younger_ than Louis.

Louis was smashed at this party, of course, when a pretty boy gave him a place to sit and water to drink and was just so _nice_ that Louis couldn’t keep quiet. He had to express his infatuation and gratitude _somehow._ All he mustered was: “Hi, I’m drunk.”

To that, the boy had laughed and Louis was almost sure that he’d fallen in love right there. “It’s nice to meet you, even though we’ve met before. We know each other pretty well, actually. But, regardless, nice to meet you, Drunk. I’m Harry.”

The connection didn’t happen for Louis until about fifteen minutes later; that was _his_ Harry at this party, nursing him into coherence and playing along with his stupid drunk charade. He promptly found his boy and kissed him senseless.

Louis lights another cigarette as his mind keeps whirring at a hundred miles a minute. He never stood a chance back then, not with Harry looking so cute and being so nice and acting so sweet. That party was the turning point for at least Louis, he wasn’t fucking around with the relationship after that. He waited for Harry, of course he did, and by next summer, the waiting paid off.

At seven thirty, Louis bids his family farewell for the night and walks (because Jay won’t let him take the car and he decides not to argue) down to the pub for Harry’s set. Not many people are there, just Harry setting up onstage, but Louis keeps his distance. Show Harry and Regular Harry are two different people, and Louis never wants to get in the way of Harry and his shows; he’s entirely serious about them and Louis doesn’t want to throw off his game. Instead, he gets himself a water and picks a table off to the right of the stage, and settles for scrolling through Facebook. His mum has posted about seven hundred pictures of the summer so far, and Louis doesn’t doubt there’s more there they came from.

He’s on the second photo album his mum had made when Harry comes over to him. “You’re here very early,” he notes.

Louis glances around the bar, pleased to see that it’s begun filling up. _These people are here to see Harry, probably,_ Louis thinks, _that’s so fucking sick._ “I wanted a good seat.” he says simply.

Harry nods slowly. “Ah, I see. Sticking to water tonight?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bit of PTSD from your hangover this morning, if I’m being honest. Gotta give my liver a mo’ to catch up.”

Harry laughs. “I should probably get onstage. Stick around for awhile after, if you feel like it.”

“I will consider it. Li and Niall coming?”

“No, I don’t think so. They’re busy tonight, I think. Should just be you, sorry about that.”

Louis doesn’t mind being alone. Sure, it takes away a buffer; both a Harry buffer and a random bar hookup buffer, but Louis can do without it. He’ll just have to put his guard up and make sure nothing (not Harry nor a cute Rhode Island bloke) can get to him.

 

Harry gets into the set, singing covers and even a few originals that Louis is beginning to find familiar. After a cover of _Leather and Lace_ by Stevie Nicks, Harry jumps right into the next song.

_[Same](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suNBBjPdkhA) lips red, same eyes blue, same white shirt, couple more tattoos. It’s not you, and it’s not me. Tastes so sweet, looks so real, sounds like something that I used to feel, but I can’t touch what I see. _

Louis doesn’t want to sound cocky or self absorbed, but he’s pretty sure this is the song Niall told him about, the one Harry wanted him to come here for. He really wishes he had a cocktail right about now.

_We’re not who we used to be, we’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat._

For some reason he feels like there’s no one else in the room, but at the same time feels like everyone in the room is looking at him. He feels like no one knows, but that everyone knows, and Louis doesn’t like the way it feels. Harry’s not even _looking_ at him, there’s no way everyone else in the pub is. No, Harry’s lost in the song, eyes closed as he plays and sings like it’s all he ever wants to do.

_The fridge light washes this room white, moon dances over your good side, this was all we used to need. Tongue tied like we’ve never known, telling those stories we already told, ‘cause we don’t say what we really mean._

As soon as the song ends and Harry starts saying his goodbye for the night, Louis bolts outside. He can’t decide if he can’t breathe but wants to breathe, or just doesn’t want to breathe. He crouches down in the dim light of the streetlamp and focuses on his breathing. Then he takes out the one cigarette he brought and starts smoking it like it’s the one thing that’s going to save him and keep him sane.

That’s the song, of course it’s the song. Niall said it was good, Niall said it was blatantly about Louis, about what’s happened between them, but Louis didn’t think it would be like _that._ Sure, he wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect when he set foot in that pub tonight, but Louis is sure it wasn’t that. He wasn’t expecting that much, that much heaviness and feeling and sadness and regret all tied into one song.

Harry comes out when Louis is still in the middle of smoking his one cigarette. “Can I have?” he asks, gesturing towards Louis’ cigarette.

“I only brought the one. Self-control, and all that.” Partially self control, partially because he hasn’t bought another pack yet.

“We can share,” Harry replies simply. He takes the cigarette from Louis’ fingers without asking again, breathes in, and blows it out again in a cough.

“Still don’t do that often, do you, kid?” Louis grins, unable to help it. “Y’smoke like you’re afraid of it.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “So, what’d you think?” he asks, standing before Louis with his hands shoved in his pockets. His confident, cigarette-smoking charade has fallen; now he’s acting like this is the first time Louis’ ever come to his show, and he’s nervous to hear what the fucking critics have to say. Louis is just about shitting himself as well, so he calls it even.

“It’s… you’re brave,” he says, kind of pointlessly, as that wasn’t really what Harry asked, nor does it entirely make sense.

Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

Louis ashes his cigarette and looks at Harry carefully. Harry’s avoiding eye contact. “I don’t see anyone else in this goddamn town out here writing like you did. People in New York are honest, but it’s never like this. You told me to come and you sang that song, right in front of me. You put your soul out there, and I think that’s brave.”

“I just… write. Personal experiences, you know. Just like always.”

Harry finally meets his gaze, and Louis feels like everything inside him cracks. “Haz,” he murmurs. He drops his cigarette and stomps it out. “I want to kiss you.”

“So do it,” Harry says simply. If only everything was that simple.

“If I do… If I do, I don’t think I’ll want to stop.”

Harry shrugs. “I won’t complain.”

So, Louis kisses him. And Harry just falls into it. Louis can feel everything inside him that cracked just seconds ago filling up again, filling up with memories and eight lost years and _Harry,_ he doesn’t think he can ever be too full. Harry’s lips feel exactly as they have the past three times they’d kissed this summer, except maybe better, because Louis is welcoming this. He wanted this to happen, he knows it’s happening and is entirely glad it is.

“Let me walk you home,” Louis breathes out, tracing gentle fingertips over Harry’s collarbones. “Sober, for the first time maybe ever.”

Harry laughs softly. “I’ll let you walk me home, Sober Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis feels… giddy the entire walk back home. He and Harry don’t talk much, they don’t hold hands, but their hands brush every so often and Louis just gets revved up again.

They stand outside Harry’s house, like they had so many years before, and stare at each other. “D’you need me to walk you to your bedroom too?” Louis asks softly.

“Shame on you, for thinking I’d put out this early.” Harry scolds.

Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t have just the slightest hopes of scoring a little something. But he’s not disappointed, not even surprised, when Harry shoots him down. “Harry Styles, will you let me take you to the carnival? It’s in town, from what I’ve heard, and I’d love to buy you ice cream and ride the ferris wheel with you.”

“A date?” Harry arches his eyebrows.

“Yeah, a date.”

Harry ponders for a moment before saying, “No.”

Louis looks at him, confused and somewhat amused. “No courtship then?”

“I’m a stubborn man, Louis. Perhaps more stubborn than you, sometimes. You can’t win me back this easy. How do I know you won’t turn on me come tomorrow? I’m expecting you to pull out all the stops. You’ve got to try a bit harder if you want me to come with you to the carnival.”

Louis huffs and begins walking backwards, towards his house. It’s the same routine they’d have eight years ago, yet something feels different about this run. “You’re driving me fucking _insane,_ Harry Styles!” Louis shouts.

Harry grins back at him, waving him off. Louis feels lighter as he walks back to his own house. He feels changed and different and _good._ He tries to be quiet in getting into the house, but it doesn’t make a difference because his family is still up anyway.

“Hey, Lou. Where have you been?” Jay greets. She’s perched on the couch with Dan massaging her foot, like she’s the fucking queen (which, hey, she might as well be). Lottie and Tommy are the only other people in the living room, cuddled up on the couch with glasses of wine in their hands.

“Down at the pub, watching Harry play. Only drank water, so don’t worry,” he replies, sliding his trainers off. “Want your shoulders done too, mum?”

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Jay notes, looking up at him. “H play a good set?”

Jay moves her legs from the couch and lets Louis plop down between herself and Dan. “Yeah, he played great. Think everyone should come down and see him before we leave. Maybe tomorrow? It’s Saturday and he’s there again.”

“Maybe, we can discuss it further later. Are you sure you’re alright, Lou? Sober?”

“I’m fine, mum. I promise. And, yes, I’m the most sober I’ve been in days.”

“Alright, Lou.”

********

[Louis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eM_FR7I2Ttw) doesn’t tell his mum that he’s taking Harry to the carnival. He just makes another lame excuse for his going out and she doesn’t question it, maybe because she doesn’t care or maybe she knows she won’t be able to make him stay home. He just knows that he can't tell anyone yet; _especially_ his mum because as soon as he does, it becomes real and it won't ever go away.

Louis and Harry meetup where they always used to - between the hot dog stand and the cotton candy. “I was promised ice cream and a ride on the ferris wheel,” Harry says in lieu of a proper greeting (what that may have entailed, Louis isn't sure he’ll ever know).

“You will get both of those things, ace. And I’m paying for them, too. I owe you, I’m sure.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You don’t _owe_ me anything. But, I’ll let you buy the shit anyways because it’ll help with your ego and manliness and whatnot.”

“I appreciate that very much.” Louis laughs.

They walk closer to the ferris wheel before Harry picks his ice cream shop; one different than the one they’d come to when they were younger. Harry gets cotton candy, just like he always used to, even though he could walk five feet away and get _actual_ cotton candy. Louis gets mint chocolate chip and they swap spoons sometimes without even asking to – it’s just the routine.

 _It can’t be this easy,_ Louis thinks to himself as they board the ferris wheel. They can’t just fall back into step like nothing ever happened. Louis doesn't know if he can _let_ that happen.

“Did you tell your mum where you were going?” Harry asks suddenly, not looking at Louis as the ferris wheel takes off around.

“No, I didn't. Why, did you?”

“No. I figured you wouldn't, and I figured we shouldn't until we, you know, talk about it. Which I don’t want to do now, because then this will stop feeling so… picture-perfect. I want to hold onto it for at least a little while,” Harry looks at Louis finally, smiling a bit. Then he looks back off the ferris wheel, at the beach and boardwalk below and the town - their town - in the distance.

Harry and Louis painted Bonnet Shores theirs for the short time that they weren’t dating, and then the entire time they were dating. Every part of the town held some kind of secret for them. The sandy beaches held onto the love confessions they poured out during late nights, the booth in the diner kept all of their university-deciding drama, their bedrooms locked every inch of each other’s memory. This is their town, as far as Louis is concerned.

“You’re not enjoying the view,” Harry says pointedly, turning to face Louis.

“I’m enjoying _a_ view.” _Flattery rarely fails._

Harry rolls his eyes and takes a bite from the cone. “Please. You’re ridiculous. Flattery won’t get you that far, Tomlinson. Not this time. And when we get back home, you’re dropping me off and leaving. You’re not coming inside and you’re certainly not spending the night.”

Louis frowns. Again, he wasn’t exactly expecting that, of course not. That would be diving in head first and neither of them are ready or willing to do that; it’s too risky. It’s an unspoken _thing_ between them. “Fine, but I can’t say I’m happy about this arrangement.”

“Please, Louis. Courtship doesn’t involve sex until marriage.”

Louis swallows visibly at the mention of that word. But he quickly recovers, brushes it off. “ _Ha ha,_ Styles. We’ll see about that.”

 

It only takes Louis a night to realize how absolutely insane he’s acting, how absolutely insane the night at the pub and the carnival were. The realization hits him when he’s sitting on the dock, watching Lottie challenge Tommy to laps in the water. Both nights he was completely sober, and yet he felt completely off his ass, and he made moves that he would come to question later. As he’s doing now.

He gets up abruptly, heading for the Styles’ house. “Hey, Louis. Harry’s on a run right now.” Gemma says, frowning at him. “Everything alright?”

Louis huffs. He didn’t even _ask_ where Harry was, Gemma just _assumed._ Maybe he was coming over to see her and the kids (he wasn’t, not really, but still). “Thanks, Gem. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk to H.”

Gemma pats the table across from her, motioning for Louis to sit down. He’s trapped now. “Y’can wait for him here, talk to me for a bit,” she grins. Louis sighs and sits down. “How’s H been doing at the pub?”

“He does great, he always does. He clearly loves playing. And writing, the whole lot.”

Gemma nods, sighing dreamily. “He’s killing you, isn’t he?”

“Gem, I really don’t want to talk about that shit right now,” Louis groans.

“I could get you drunk first if you want. I know that gets you talking. Although, you came over here looking for Harry in the first place and I’m assuming that meant you were going to talk to him. He talks to me, Louis. We talk a lot. He said you’ve been leading him on, and that’s all that’s been happening.”

“Oh, _fuck_ that,” Louis stands up abruptly, the chair screeching across the floor. “Gems, we’re not doing anything. Harry and I aren’t doing anything,  you and I aren’t talking about anything either.”

Harry comes jogging up the steps then, but Louis can’t decide if he feels saved or even more stranded. “Oh. What’re you doing here?”

“I was looking for you.” Louis replies. “Can we talk? Do you have it in you to take a walk?”

“ _Oh.”_ Harry drones, face immediately falling. “Yeah, sure. We can go for a walk.”

He drops a kiss to his sister’s head in greeting and grabs the water bottle from the table. They walk in the opposite direction of their houses, further away from their families and people who will hear them and want to talk. “I’m gonna smoke, is that alright?” Louis asks.

“What? Yeah, sure.” Harry says distantly. “Is everything alright, Lou?”

“I just wanted to talk to you, about this? It feels a bit surreal, if I’m being honest, and I just… I’m trying to get my head around it and whatever it could mean.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, not for a long time. Louis blows through half his cigarette while waiting in agony for Harry’s reply. “You wanna back out. It’s fine, I get it. I expected it, really.”

“I want to be friends with you, Harry. You’re my best friend, and I regret those eight years that we didn’t talk. I want to keep talking to you. But I just… I don’t know if I have it in me to be what we used to be.”

“You ripped that page right out of my notebook, didn’t you?” Harry laughs, shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. “We’re definitely nowhere near what we used to be, Louis. I shouldn’t have even asked you to come to the fucking pub to watch me play. The carnival’s gonna be it, right? There’s nothing else after that. If you could be a big person and just tell me that the carnival is it, that’d be great.”

Louis sighs. “For the record, you initially turned me down when I asked you to the carnival,” he says softly, dropping his cigarette in the sand and putting it out.

Harry stops and picks the cig up again, shoving it in his pocket. “Whatever, Louis. I get it, I guess.” Then he turns around and treks back toward his house.

“Well, that went fucking awfully,” Louis mutters, lighting another cigarette for the walk back.

 

His swearing off of alcohol (for recovery and sanity and whatnot) is called off when he’s at the bar with Liam and Niall and he has a drink. And another, and another. Yeah, Louis Tomlinson is drunk. The night drags on. Louis isn’t getting drunk for fun, he’s getting drunk because he’s miserable and wants to forget about things. When he gets drunk like this, it’s not fun, it feels more like a chore. Niall tries to dip early because he says Louis is too depressing and Harry’s offering a Harry Potter marathon (they’re choosing sides now, _great)_ but Louis manages to convince both Ni and Liam to stay.

They drink till about midnight, then decide it’s time to go. Liam and Louis pause for a smoke outside, and _that’s_ when Liam decides to talk. “Louis, I’m gonna be honest with you right now.” he says “He told me. Harry, I mean.”

“He told you.” Louis deadpans, leaning against the building.

“Of course he told me, I’m one of his best mates.”

Liam says it like it’s painfully obvious, of _course_ he came running to me to tell me about your latest fuckup. “Right, of course he did, Liam. Just like that _one_ time he and I got in a fight and he went running right to you only to _hook up_ with you?” Louis spits.

“Oh my _god_ Louis we were, like, fifteen and nothing even _happened, and_ you didn’t even start dating until the following year!” Liam exclaims. “You’ve got him fucked up, Louis. He’s nearly inconsolable every time Niall or I talk to him and you come up. You’ve got to get your shit together, mate.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t need you to fucking tell me what to do. You don’t _get_ to tell me what to do.”

Liam scoffs. “Louis, that kid could have any guy he damn well chooses but here he is pining after _you._ I don’t know why, I don’t know _how,_ but he is. Your commitment issues and tantrums and shitty communication.”

“Piss off,” Louis grumbles. He could fucking _hit_ Liam right now.

“You’re treating him like _shit,_ Louis. It’s bad enough you dropped him once, but to do it again? That’s seriously fucked up and I don’t know what your game plan is, but it’s hurting Harry and no matter how many times you say you don’t want to hurt him, you just keep doing it.”

There’s a moment, one Louis isn’t sure where he knows what he’s doing, and in that moment, it would appear Louis’ thrown a punch. He doesn’t realize this is what he’s done until after it’s been done, and Niall is grabbing him by the arm.

Liam curses at him, but doesn’t swing back. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Niall says, holding tight onto Louis.

“I should probably go home.” Louis mumbles, shaking himself from Niall’s grip.

“I’ll walk with you,” Niall suggests, already beginning to follow Louis along. Normally Louis would tell him to fuck off, but he’s too drunk to do anything about it right now. Hitting Liam still seems a bit surreal, and Louis’ hand isn’t really hurting, so that’s not making it feel anymore real.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Niall says suddenly. Louis hums. “I mean, of course I think you’re a douchebag for it, but I don’t necessarily blame you for hitting Liam. I think you’re a complex person and what’s happening with H is a complex situation, and Liam was prodding. And you’re drunk and you’ve always felt the need to combat things like that physically. Li should’ve seen it coming, but you still owe him a massive apology.”

“I will.” Louis replies. “Of course I’ll apologize. Can’t believe I fucking hit him. I’m so stupid.”

“This game you’ve got going on with Harry is getting to you. He’s starting to hurt you, and that’s something I never thought I’d see,” Niall admits.

Louis glances over at him and hopes Niall will elaborate without him having to ask. Niall’s good at that, and he’s good at saying what needs to be said at a certain moment in time. Louis hopes that pulls through now. Although he’s not sure how much he’ll retain in his drunken state.

“Harry’s a lot more… fragile than you are. He takes things to heart, always has. That kid wears his heart out on his sleeve with such pride, it’s incredible. You were never like that, at least not until you got with H. But even then, you were more reserved and private with your heart. And you’ve always been emotionally tougher than he has. Things never… bothered you.”

“And what’s that mean, exactly, Doctor Phil?”

Niall laughs. “It means that now he’s starting to hurt _you_ , and that’s pretty fucking serious to me. You… you’ve always hurt him, even though you never meant to. But he’s hurting you and that’s how I know that this time around, shit’s real. I mean, you punched Liam. You haven’t done that since we were, like, sixteen.”

“We were fifteen,” Louis says, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket. The pack is half empty. _Maybe after this one, I’ll quit._ “Haz was thirteen, and he and I had a fight. H went to Liam and they almost kissed. Harry said they never did.”

“Harry came running right to you to tell you what happened. And you went right to Liam.”

“He just seemed so much younger than all of us then… It didn’t seem right.” Louis says softly.

“And y’had a bit of a crush on him then. We all knew, it’s why Liam didn’t come after you then, and it’s why he won’t come after you now.”

They’re walking past [Harry’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6366dxFf-Os) house now, and Louis feels some kind of pull within him that makes him feel the need to go in and see Harry. “I’m gonna see if he’s up. Can you find your way home from here?” Louis asks.

“Sure. I’ll pretend _you_ were walking _me_ home.” Niall rolls his eyes. “Don’t… do anything stupid, okay?”

“No promises,” Louis grins.

He’s not entirely sure about the time, so he doesn’t risk knocking on the front door. Instead, he goes around the back of the house and stares up at Harry’s window. He’d climbed up there a thousand times, drunk and sober, but never _this_ drunk. So he settles for rocks. He tosses pebbles at Harry’s window until it slides up, a sleepy-looking Harry sticking his head out the window.

“Louis? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Can you come down here?” Louis asks, stumbling a bit as he struggles to look up.

Harry sighs. “Yeah, I guess.”

He shuts the window again. It takes him awhile to get down, and for a moment Louis thinks maybe he won’t come out at all. But he does, he comes out in socks and loose-fitting sweats and a Green Bay hoodie and he does not look like he wants to be outside at this hour.

Louis doesn’t wait for him to get off the back deck, he launches himself at Harry and kisses him. He tastes like chocolate and mint toothpaste and _eight lost years._ “Lou,” he murmurs.

Louis feels desperate as he kisses Harry’s jaw, chin, and neck. He fits a hand over Harry’s sweats, palming him through them. “What’re you doing?” Harry asks. “Shit, you’re _really_ drunk.”

“And? I’m really hard,” Louis kisses him again, but Harry wriggles away.

“Stop, Lou. You’re _kind of_ hard. And you’re _really_ drunk. This isn’t a good idea.”

“I want you, Haz,” Louis says pointedly.

Harry shoves Louis all the way off and backs away. “You’re drunk. You don’t want me.”

Harry says that, and it sobers him up quicker than anything ever has. The statement hits him like a punch in the gut. “Harry. What’s that mean?”

“I-I don’t… you’re not yourself, Lou. Sometimes you’re _you_ and then sometimes you get like this, and you’re not _you.”_ He falls silent after that, watching as Louis pulls out his pack of cigarettes. Wordlessly, Harry reaches forward and pulls another cigarette from the pack before Louis can put it away.

Louis lights it for him, not questioning why Harry’s smoking cigarettes when they both know full well that he hates them with a passion. The silence echoes in Louis’ head, sounding empty and like eight years and ugliness and inescapable madness. “I don’t know how to do this,” Louis says softly.

“Louis, I love you. You know I do. But right now, I think I hate you with everything I have in me.”

“Haz,” Louis says brokenly.

“No, Louis. I _hate_ you. I hate what you’ve done to me. I don’t know how to deal with this either, I don’t know how I’m supposed to love you after all the shit you’ve put me through,” Harry sniffles, rubbing at his face with the hand that isn’t holding the cigarette. He’s only inhaled on it once, other than that he’s just letting it burn out.

The words take a moment to process in Louis’ drunk mind, but once it does, he takes several steps back from Harry. “I’ll give you space.”

Harry laughs out loud when Louis says that. “Yeah, you’ll leave. Fucking walk away, Louis. You’re real fucking good at that.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Louis spits. His voice doesn’t even sound like his own. He sounds absolutely livid, but knows he’s only matching Harry’s tone. “I came over here and tried to show you I care, tried to fix things, but you told me off and told me to go home. Fine, fucking forget it, Harry.”

“You came to see me when you were off your ass. You only ever come to see me when you’re off your ass or feeling completely delusional and guilty after hearing me talk about you.”

Louis takes the cigarette from Harry’s hand and drops both of them on the ground. “I’m going now.” 

 _of all the people  
_ _i used to be,  
_ _i miss the one that  
_ _loved you the most.  
_ _-david jones._

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels like he can’t go anywhere, he

can’t go anywhere without seeing Louis. Everything is covered in traces and ghosts of _Louis,_ there’s no escaping it. Harry sees Louis when he looks at his kitchen, where they'd spent hours kissing and teaching Louis how to cook. He sees Louis when he looks at the beach, where they’d spend afternoons laying on towels and talking, and when night fell, Harry would teach Louis all the constellations. He sees Louis when he looks at himself, he can see all the places Louis’ touched him and left a burn.

He really needs to forget, Louis being around and saying what he’s said and doing what he’s done doesn’t change anything. But then Harry thinks some more about it, and it _does_ change things, no matter how much he wishes it didn’t. He’d recovered after he and Louis permanently split up and lost touch. He convinced himself that Louis wasn’t coming back, they were not going to find each other again and learned how to cope when his heart began to hurt.

But now everything’s back in his life and he has to start the recovery process over again and pray that Louis doesn’t kill him when he leaves (and this time he really, really might).

Harry still finds himself clinging to a hope that somewhere out there, there’s a universe where things are better and they’re more gentle with each other.

 

“[You’ve](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_PQ4fRQ5Kc) been running a lot lately,” Anne says, sitting beside Harry in the sand.

“Not really. The hangover really pushed me back, but I’m back on track now.” He’s been stone-cold sober for two and a half days, even though the only thing he wants to do is get blackout drunk and forget about everything Louis’ done to him.

“You’ve been going twice a day. And, I don’t really know how you like to deal with things now that you’re an adult and don’t like talking to your mum about things anymore, but a lot of times talking about your problems, you know, helps. You could talk to me or even… I don’t know, talk to Louis?”

Harry scoffs, digging his hand into the sand. “Talking to Louis never does any good. And, besides, who says Louis is the problem here? All roads don’t lead back to Louis, mum.”

“But they _do,_ H. I know you don’t think they do, maybe you just don’t want them to, but I think they do. they always have, ever since you were thirteen years old. The last time you got weird like this, it was our first day home after you’d broke it off with Louis. You were seventeen years old and _heartbroken_ and so livid at Jay and yourself and _him_ that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. I’ll never forget the amount of _muffins_ we ate that weekend because you went into an attention-diverting, baking frenzy.”

“It’s… nothing mum. Louis has made it very clear that it’s nothing, despite some conflicting actions and feelings. It’s now clear, don’t worry.”

“What’d he say to you, love?” Anne asks softly.

“He just… he came over the other night, he was drunk, fresh off the pub with Niall and Li, I think. And he tried to, like, hookup, I guess? But I know that’s not what he really wants, because he wouldn't do it sober. He _hasn’t_ tried to do it sober. So I told him off a bit, and he fucked right off. Which, I suppose I told him to, but still… I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what, Haz?” His mother is squeezing all the information right out of him and, honestly, it feels _good_ for Harry to get it out.

“What I want. Why I do this. I fucking _hate_ him, mum. I hate that it’s been so much time and he still has this hold on me. I hate that he can show up in Bonnet one summer and make me fall in love all over again but have it be unrequited. It isn’t fucking _fair._ He left me and he moved to New York and he’s got a job and a life and we’re twenty-eight and twenty-six _fucking_ years old but I can’t look at or talk to or think about him without feeling my heart start to break all over again,” Harry can feel himself falling apart as he speaks, and knows his mum can tell.

She attempts to interject, but Harry shakes his head. “I’m fine. He just lets me get my hopes up and then they just come crashing down and I’ve let _myself_ go for it every damn time this summer. I’m so scared that when he leaves this time, when this picture-perfect summer at Bonnet is over, that it’ll be over forever. Because he will leave, it’s what he does, and it’s gonna destroy me this time.”

Anne pulls Harry into her side, letting him bury his head in her neck like he’s thirteen and crying about kissing Liam when really he wanted to be kissing Louis. Harry feels breathless, Louis’ gone and stolen his breath again, just like he always does. He can’t believe he’s crying to his mother like this, about Louis, _again._

 _He’s gone. Stop looking for him everywhere._ “He ruined me.”

Anne kisses the top of his head. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. But you know, I don’t think you’re being honest.”

Harry sniffs, shaking his head. “That’s the worst part. I know what he’s done to me and I know that I shouldn’t put myself through it again but I just can’t help it.”

“You love him, H. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve tried. And even if you didn’t run into him here this summer, you would’ve moved on and found someone else eventually. But I think even if you met someone else, you still would’ve loved him. You always waited for him to come back.”

“Fucking pathetic,” Harry mumbles, shaking his head. “It’s pathetic. All this time has gone by and he’s moved on and is unscathed and I’m still wrapped around his tiny little _stupid_ finger.”

Anne doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Harry knows she’s collecting her thoughts. She wants to say the right thing to him, and she might even be biting her tongue a bit. “I don’t… I don’t think anyone can blame you,” she says finally.

“What?”

“I don’t think anyone blames you for what you feel for him. Harry, you _love_ him. You loved him when you were fourteen and loved him even when he left you and you love him now. He’s captivating and sweet and funny and he keeps you on your toes.”

Harry sits up straight, wiping his face clean of any tears. They’re in the open, on the beach, Harry can’t risk one of the Tomlinsons seeing him like this. “I just don’t know how to make him see. He’s a prat, this is a shock to no one. He’s dense.”

Anne nods. “Yeah, he is. But I think you know how you feel; you want him back. Maybe it’ll go everywhere, maybe it’ll go nowhere. But you didn’t get the closure you wanted and you’re still not getting it, so you want to give it another try. You’ve gotta talk to him, H. You’ve gotta corner him and make him _listen_ to you. He’s got to be sober and he’s got to know that you’re not going away until he hears you out and gives you an explanation.”

“How’d you get so good at this?” Harry asks, resting his chin on his knees.

His mother laughs, rubbing his back. “Years and years of experience, my love. And eight years watching you agonize over this boy. You deserve more from him, Haz.”

Harry knows he deserves more. He just wants Louis to be the one to give him more. He knows Louis _can,_ it’s just a matter of making Louis realize that he can. Harry’s confronted Louis numerous times, told him how he feels and gave Louis a chance to sort out his feelings. But, Louis was nothing short of himself, and he’s being complicated and tense.

But then sometimes Louis keeps acting like he wants chances, and Harry is (and always has been) ready to dish out as many as he thinks he wants. He’ll never stop dishing out those fourth and fifth and twentieth chances because… well, all the reasons he just voiced to his mother. Louis ruined him, Louis leaving again just might kill him, but Louis is Louis and Harry will always wait for him.

Harry’s mum leaves him sitting there in the sand. She probably can’t handle the ever-looming, overwhelming cloud of sadness and lovesickness and anxiety that’s surrounding him. Or maybe she just wanted to give him some time, that’s probably more likely.

While he’s sitting outside, Louis comes out as well. He doesn’t even look in Harry’s direction, Harry knows this because he’s staring at Louis. Louis sits on their dock and lights up, leaning back in his chair. Harry’s always hated Louis’ smoking; it was something he occasionally did at Bonnet during their last summers there, mostly at parties. Apparently he’s a full-fledged smoker now, chain smoking and everything. He hated it when he was sixteen and he hates it now, but there’s just something mesmerizing about the way Louis does it.

Harry thinks he should go inside before Louis does, minimize the risk of Louis seeing him out here when he surely still looks like he was crying, so he pushes himself up and starts heading back to the house. He stops and looks at Louis one last time before going inside, only to see Louis is looking at him already.

Harry quickly slips inside and shuts the door. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He plays with Gemma’s kids, he helps his mum clean the kitchen, he watches Netflix. Around six, Anne orders pizza and they eat at the table, but Harry kind of feels like he’s just floating through.

It’s after seven when there’s a sudden knock at the front door. Harry answers because his mum doesn’t want to get up. Louis is standing there with a plate of brownies in his hands. “My, uh, sisters baked these. Lottie and Tommy had the little ones in the kitchen all afternoon baking a shitload of stuff, mum made me run this over because she doesn’t think we should finish it all.”

Harry nods slowly, taking the plate. “Thanks, I guess. Have a good night, Louis.”

He starts closing the door, but Louis stops it very suddenly. “Harry, wait.”

There’s silence between them. Harry feels like there’s an invisible wall between the two of them when Louis doesn’t even attempt to cross the threshold into the house. Harry feels like the people in his house are listening. Anne and Gemma are definitely eavesdropping, so he takes it upon himself to break the barrier and step outside, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says finally. “For everything I’ve done. I know that I’ve been a douchebag, I really do. I don’t know what I want for myself and I drag you into it and I _hate_ that I’m doing it. I thought I knew what I wanted but that’s not it, it can’t happen. We split for a reason, and I have to think that reason still stands otherwise it’s gonna make me fall apart. I will leave Bonnet the second you ask me to, Harry. If you don’t want to see my face around here anymore, I’ll leave and go back to New York and we never have to see each other again.”

Harry doesn’t answer him. He hopes somehow the silence conveys how much he _doesn’t_ want that, because he just feels like he can’t trust himself to open his mouth right now. He’ll say things that won’t make anything any better. This is Louis shutting him out, Harry knows it all too well.

“I punched Liam the other night. The night I came and talked to you? I punched him because he was talking all this shit and butting his head in and I was drunk and I just… did it. It didn’t hurt him too bad, I was a bit too disoriented to do any real damage. Niall Doctor Phil’d me on the way home and I came to you because I thought that’s what I wanted. I’m sorry.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn’t want to fucking cry in front of Louis. “There’s’ so much I want to say to you. It’s been there for so long, Louis. But right now, I look at you and, it’s so fucking pathetic, but all I want to do is _touch_ you.” The tears are falling now, hot on his face and Harry can’t bring himself to care about it anymore. He never used to hide what he was feeling from Louis - from anyone, really - and he doesn’t think he ever could. He just wished it wasn’t so easy for Louis to turn away from it.

“It’s so pathetic, I know. I’m so angry at you for everything you’ve done to me, and

you’ve told me that you don’t think we can _do this_ again, but I just can’t stop wanting you. I want to touch you and kiss you. I’ve just missed you so _much,_ those eight years tore me apart every single time I thought about you, and it kills me even more when I remember that you don’t miss me, but _shit,_ Lou. I’ve missed you every single day during those years, and this entire fucking summer.”

Harry can feel that he’s not breathing, he’s not supposed to be feeling this way and saying these things. He sits on the porch steps, hoping that it grounds him (it does nothing to help). Suddenly Louis’ wrapping his arms around Harry and _shit,_ Harry feels healed and broken all at the same time. That’s home, he thinks, this is home, in every sense of that word. Louis smells like tea and lavender and the beach and that’s what _home_ smells like. It’s broken but it’s Louis’ blue eyes and scent and heartbeat and Harry feels like he’s falling. Louis’ warm and bright, he’s always been so fucking _bright._ It’s always lured Harry in.

“[Kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhmLPmgDmGc) me,” he whispers. Louis doesn’t move an inch. Harry begs. “Kiss me, just one more time. Please, Lou. I won’t ever ask you for anything again. I don’t want you to leave, you can stay in Bonnet, but I just… I need. Please.”

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s chin, forcing him to look upward. Harry stares at Louis’ eyes, blue oceans that Harry feels like he’s drowning in (it’s a damn good thing he knows how to swim). Then Louis kisses him. Warm and soft and slow and sweet just like it’s always been. Harry melts into it and doesn’t dare pull away, even though he starts losing oxygen relatively quickly (he’s a bit overwhelmed) and would normally come up for air. Harry would rather go out like this, in a whirl of Louis’ touch and Louis’ lips and Bonnet silently cheering them on.

He’s not surprised when Louis pulls away first. He’s not surprised when Louis stands up, wiping at his face with his hand, says goodnight, and walks back home. He’s not surprised when he goes back inside after a few minutes to face his mother.

“What went on out there?” she asks, looking at the plate of brownies in Harry’s hand.

“Louis just dropped these off.” he says, handing them to her. “Lottie and Tommy had the little ones baking all afternoon, apparently.”

“Oh, that was nice of him. Are you alright?” Harry knew the question was coming, he’s not surprised by that either.

He shrugs. “I will be. Eventually. Kinda wish he weren’t so fucking bright.”

Anne looks at him funny. “What do you mean?”

“Louis. He’s bright. It’ll be alright, though.”

She nods slowly, trying to make sense of it. Harry doesn’t bother telling her that she can’t make sense of anything Harry or Louis do, because the two of them hardly make sense of it. Louis never makes sense, it didn’t take Harry long to learn, and he almost drove himself mad in learning this. Anne doesn’t ask him about it anymore than that, thankfully.

Harry’s not surprised when he ends up sat on his windowsill with his song book. He’s not surprised when he starts writing and starts spilling his soul through the ink. He’s not surprised when the pages become drenched in Louis.

 

Harry _is_ surprised when he wakes up and finds Louis waiting on his back deck. He’s heading out for his early run, or at least _was_ before Louis showed up. “You didn’t have enough last night? I don’t want anything from you, Louis. Just _please_ let me recover,” Harry begs, putting his water on the table.

“Please just fucking hear me out, Harry. If you don’t like what I say then we never have to speak again. I won’t bother you,” And, Harry doesn’t want that. He prays he likes whatever Louis says. “I heard you all those times you yelled at me this summer, all the times we yelled at each other. I heard you. I know what I’ve been doing.”

Louis begins pacing, like he can’t sit still (he never could, Harry isn’t surprised). “I’ve been fucking pacing back and forth all night. I hardly slept, I’m running on coffee and periodic shots of vodka. I told myself that after I finished my last pack of cigs, that would be it, I’d quit. But at like midnight last night I was going to the Shell up the street and buying, like, three more packs because I’d smoked through my last one before my family even went to bed.”

Harry still can’t believe Louis is standing here, slightly manic. He doesn’t know what to say in reply. Louis’ got rendered him speechless yet again. “I didn’t want to bring the plate of brownies over last night but mum made me, she said I had to. I know I’m twenty eight and all but Jay’s word still goes, everyone knows that. I hadn’t planned on apologizing or whatever like that. I knew I owed you one, and I gave Li one that same day, but I hadn’t planned on ambushing you like that.”

“Are you… are you apologizing for your apology?” Harry asks, giving Louis a funny look.

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve gotta cut me some slack here, kid. You know I’ve never been brilliant with words, that was always you.”

Harry frowns at that, but stays silent. Louis always wrote songs with Harry, beautiful songs that Harry wishes he could write.

“I’m trying to tell you that I stayed up all night, am a bit jacked up on coffee and a bit drunk off vodka, and am still a smoker despite valiant efforts to stop. I am all of these things because I was driving myself _mad_ last night trying to figure it out. I can’t figure out why after all this time, we can’t come here and be normal exes after a long-removed breakup. I can’t figure out why when I saw you for the first time here, it felt like everything inside me just _broke._ All those walls I’d built and buffers between what we had and the real world came crashing down and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I knew there had to be a reason we broke up eight years ago. I figured that eight years was enough time, that I’d be alright seeing you, that there’d be nothing left there.”

Louis pauses for a breath, during which Harry doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have it in him to say anything. Louis lights a cigarette, clearly not quitting now either.

“I don’t know why I thought it would be so easy. You were a big part of my life, probably the biggest. I thought I’d built up enough defenses. But I saw you that night I got here and all my walls fell down again. No matter how hard I tried these past few weeks I can’t build them back up, because for you they just fall again. And I don’t… I don’t know what it means. But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try to set things straight. I’m not sure how we’ll do it or what we’ll even _do,_ but something in me just isn’t letting me look away from you.”

Harry takes a deep breath, nodding. Louis’ finally stopped pacing, they’re now just breaths apart and Harry wants to _kiss him._ “Okay. Just… let me think about it, okay? Let me run and let me come back and we’ll figure it out, somehow.”

Louis breaks out into a grin. “Okay. I can do that. Time. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a little longer.”

That’s all it takes to have Harry closing the distance between them and kissing Louis. This time, somehow, it feels _different._ This one feels new, it feels promising. It gets a little too heated all too quickly, Harry realizes this only when he hears his mother call his name. “What are you doing?”

Harry nearly pushes Louis clean off the deck in trying to get away and praying that she didn’t see them like that. “Mum! Why are you up?”

Anne stands in the doorway, an amused look on her face. “Because I’m _up,_ Harry.”

“Of course,” he says dumbly. He shouldn’t be so startled by the fact that his mother just saw him making out with Louis, it’s happened several times before when they were younger, and now he’s twenty six years old and can make out with whoever he damn well pleases.

“Hi, Louis!” his mother says cheerily, waving at Louis.

“Good morning, Anne,” he replies, shooting her a Signature Louis Smile. His voice is raspy and shit, _shit,_ that’s how he sounds when he’s turned on, that’s one sound Harry will never be able to forget.

Anne leaves, finally, and Harry has to get away. “I’ll be back in like a half hour,” he tells Louis. “I’ll see you when I get back?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, ace.”

 

Usually running clears Harry’s head. He does it to relax, to get things out of his mind and figure things out. The run _should_ be helping him figure out what to do about Louis, but instead he just can’t stop thinking about _Louis._ Louis and the way he kisses and the way his hands feel and the way his voice sounded when he spoke to Anne and _fuck_ Harry’s head is definitely not as clear as it could or should be.

He retires from the run early, finding Louis sat on the rocks a bit away from their houses. They’d lay here for hours when they were younger, messing around with Liam and Niall and just being kids.

“Hey,” Louis says softly. “You’re back kinda early.”

Harry doesn’t wait again before kissing him, pushing Louis back so he’s laying down on the rock and _kissing him._ “Missed kissing you like this,” Louis murmurs, biting gently on Harry’s bottom lip. Harry can feel Louis’ hands on his hips, but they feel hesitant and light.

“You’re nervous,” Harry says needlessly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“‘m getting the shit kissed out of my but this incredibly hot boy, of course I’m nervous. Like I said, I’ve missed this.”

“Me too. Lou, listen. I… I want to…”

“What?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever you want.”

Louis raises his hips up, grinding against Harry as best he can. “Alright, love. I can do that.” He reaches between them and undoes Harry’s pants, only pushing them out of the way before Harry suddenly stops him.

“Wait. I haven’t, um, been with anyone? Not for a really long time.” he feels like he’s sixteen again, telling Louis that he’s never done anything more than make out with anyone before.

“For how long?” Louis asks.

“I’ve only slept with like, five or six people, Lou. And you were one of them, so…” He _swears_ Louis makes a sound in the back of his throat, growling or maybe groaning a little, but Harry might just be hearing things.

“When was the last time, Haz?”

“Like a year? Don’t make fun of me or-” Louis cuts Harry off by kissing him like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do (and so what if it is?). They separate after a moment, Harry laughing softly. “Don’t fucking flatter yourself, wasn’t necessarily waiting for you. Could go find a dozen other men willing to fuck me.”

“But you’d never give it up this easy for them, would you?” Louis finally slips a hand in Harry’s boxers as he says it. Harry groans right as Louis makes contact, breaking the quiet sounds of the early morning. It briefly occurs to him that they’re _outside,_ but all worry quickly leaves his mind when Louis kisses him again.

Fucking into Louis’ fist is tempting, Harry has to use all of his willpower to stop himself. “Feels so good,” he mumbles. Harry manages to get Louis’ pants undone and get a hand on him.

They grind together like that, Louis guiding Harry and showing him how to do it, and making Harry feel like he’s sixteen years old again, just hooking up with Louis for the first time.

He comes too fast, as soon as Louis whispers in his ear how good it feels, how much he likes and has missed doing this. He kisses Louis until he comes too, breathless as ever. Louis lets his head fall back against the rock, trying to collect his breath. “You just killed me,” he says, smiling up at Harry.

Harry reaches over Louis’ head to wipe his hand in the grass. “That’s quite the way to go, innit?”

Louis laughs and in agreement, pulls Harry in for another kiss. They lay on the rocks while the sun starts to come up, just reveling in the silence between them. It feels surreal to Harry, having Louis like this again. He doesn’t know how long it’ll last - if it lasts at all - or what will happen when they leave Bonnet in a matter of days. Harry spent his entire summer longing for Louis, as he had so many years ago, and he just hopes it all wasn’t for nothing. He wouldn’t complain if a summer like this was thrown into Louis for no reason, Louis’ worth all the drunk nights and crying, whether or not it works.

“I think I can hear you thinking,” Louis says softly, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest.

“I have so many things I want to say to you, I have to think about them.” Harry replies, sitting up as well. The sun is finally beginning to dip above the horizon, painting them in warm orange light.

“Me too, Haz. We’ve gotta figure this shit out. I don’t know how long it’ll take or what will happen, but we’ve got to do it.”

“Are you not just gonna let yourself dive into it, Louis? You’re never going to know unless we just… go for it. Date. Fuck. Elope. I don’t know,” Harry says it calmly, he’s not meaning to start shit and hopes that Louis realizes this.

Louis doesn’t reply right away, which makes Harry think that maybe he’s gearing up for an argument of some sort. “Harry Styles, would you like to go out to dinner? I’d love to wine and dine you, if that’s alright. Or we can just go to the pub, whatever you’d rather do.”

Harry feels just the slightest bit relieved. “I’d love to be wined and dined by you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis nods, exhaling heavily. “I just… I don’t wanna tell my mum, not yet. She’ll only freak out and ask questions.”

“Alright. I won’t tell my mum either, because even all these years later they’re still gossip moms. But I’m going to want to tell her, Louis. You know you want to tell Jay too,” Harry says pointedly. He knows Louis’ nothing if not a mama’s boy, he knows Louis and Jay tell each other everything, even though Louis’ so much older now.

“I’ll tell her. Eventually.”

********

Louis wines and dines Harry the next night. They both make up bullshit stories about where they’re going (again, it’s like they’re kids again) and go out to dinner. They get a little tipsy and walk to the beach they used to go to when they got drunk. It was far enough away from home but still close enough.

Harry lies down on one of the benches overlooking the water and puts his head in Louis’ lap. The stars are starting to come to come out, so Harry can’t wait to find all their favorite constellations.

“What’d you think about the other night that made you come to me?” Harry asks, looking up at Louis carefully.

Louis shrugs. He doesn’t look down at him. “I was on my fourth cup of coffee and my second shot and I was just trying to _figure it out._ Like, what I was going to do. If I was going to let you go again. Ever since I’ve been back here it feels like there’s this uncontrollable, undeniable pull towards you that I can’t fight. You’re the moon and you’ve got a fucking pull on my tides, I don’t know. But I realized, sitting there while I chain-smoked my entire pack of cigs, that the more time goes by, the longer it's been that I haven’t been with you. We’re only getting further apart. I’m getting older and so is everyone else and they’re all getting settled and shit and I’m just _here_ regretting every decision I’ve ever made when it came to you.”

Harry sighs heavily. “I have something to show you,” he says, reaching into his pocket for the folded up piece of paper he’d stuck in there before they left. He’d wrote it after he begged Louis to kiss him one last time; they’re songs, and he’s debated whether or not to show them to Louis. They’re personal and feel like a _lot_ to Harry, and he was the one who wrote them, so they’d likely feel like a lot to Louis.

“What’s this, Haz?” Louis asks, taking the paper from Harry’s hand.

“I wrote these the other night. They’re nowhere near done. I thought maybe you could help, if you wanted to. Even if you don’t, I figured you should see them. Since they’re kind of, you know, about you.”

“Aw, you wrote songs for me?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I think I’ve only written about you for about twelve years now,” he admits, voice soft.

[Louis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6gR8kGkaOI) falls silent and serious as he reads over the first of Harry’s shitty scribbles. Finally, after what feels like ages, he says something. “The summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation? That’s sweet, but who’s Olivia?”

Harry shrugs. “A place. A person. An idea. I dunno. It just fits, I think.”

Louis nods in agreement, flipping the page over to read the song that’s on the back. Harry’s glad Louis started with _Olivia,_ because the song on the back is a lot more serious and personal and Harry is suddenly regretting giving Louis the paper at all. It’s called _If I Could Fly._ Harry wonders if Louis will ask what it’s about. _It’s about you._

“This song’s finished,” Louis whispers, eyes still scanning the paper. “Nothing needs to change.”

“I wrote that awhile ago. It’s really-”

“Good,” Louis fills in. “It’s beautiful, H. You’re… I’m still in awe over how well you write. All of your shit is amazing, H.”

“You just used _shit_ and _amazing_ to describe the same thing, so I’m not sure what to believe,” Harry teases, smiling up at him. He sits up then, looking at the ocean before looking back at Louis. “We should go back. Mum’s gonna wonder where I am.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “We’re grown ass men who still have to report to our mums,” he grumbles, lips forming into an adorable pout that Harry can’t help but to lean forward and try to kiss away.

“You love your mum,” Harry says, putting a hand on Louis’ cheek. “You don’t care how overbearing or intrusive she is, because to you it’s not an intrusion.”

Louis cracks a grin at him. Harry swears he could melt. “Let’s get going, ace,” he says, standing up and motioning for Harry’s hand.

They walk back to the restaurant where Louis’ car is parked while holding hands, but drop them the second the restaurant falls into sight. They don’t know who they’ll see, and although Harry would’ve held on until his hand fell off, Louis doesn’t want that. So he lets go, as he’s had to do a million times in the past (literally and figuratively), and prays that Louis will pick him up again at some point in the future. A lot of his life has been centered around waiting for Louis, and Harry wishes he could say he regrets it.

“Thank you for letting me take you out tonight,” Louis says softly, stopping the car across the street from their houses. “I know I’ve been a dick and you really didn’t have to, so thank you.”

Harry leans forward and kisses him, slow and only _kind of_ teasing because he knows it drives Louis insane. “I wanted to. I told you, I’ve waited eight fucking years for this.”

“Mhm.” Louis hums, staying close to Harry’s lips like that’s gonna get him more of what he wants (and it damn well might). “Do you think you’re wined and dined enough to let me come in with you?”

Harry grins against him and rests a hand on the base of Louis’ neck, purely to _touch_. He feels like they’re teenagers again. “First of all, shame on you for thinking I’d put out on our first date. And, here’s how it’s gonna happen. You’re gonna give me a goodbye kiss, and you’ll go inside to your mum and Dan and your sisters, and do whatever it is you choose to do. Then tonight, once it’s late, you’ll sneak out. And you’ll come to my window. And, assuming I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you in.”

Louis arches his eyebrows, amused. “And if you’re not feeling generous?”

Harry shrugs, playing mindlessly with the hair at the base of Louis’ neck. “Then you’ll have to wait. I’ll take my kiss now, please.”

They kiss again, and Louis tries to take more than he should be getting, and Harry almost gives it to him. He almost drags him into the house right then and there. “Kiss.” he murmurs, drawing away slowly. “Not snog, you perv.”

He opens the car door as Louis laughs out loud. “ _Baby!_ I’m gonna miss you!” he calls, probably too loud for the quiet of their street and the potential that their families are around somewhere, but Harry can’t bring himself to care.

He shuts the front door behind him and feels giddy, helplessly giddy and his mum is definitely going to be able to tell that something’s up with him and Harry might just _tell_ her and swear her to secrecy because-

“You alright, Hazza?” Anne asks, right on cue with Harry’s thoughts.

Harry breaks out into a grin. “Never been better.”

“How drunk are you then, love?” she laughs at him.

He decides to go with it, just to save a little face and to save Louis’ ass (and save him from some embarrassment). “Not as drunk as I could be.”

His mother laughs at him again, linking their arms and leading him out onto the back deck where she’s sitting with Gemma and Matt. Harry passes the time in small talk and pretending to be at least a little tipsy until Gemma decides she’s ready for bed, so he says he is as well.

Once in the seclusion of his bedroom, Harry texts Louis. _Give it thirty minutes. Everyone’s heading off to bed now._

He finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, nervously chewing on his bottom lip while watching the three dots come up as Louis types. _be there in twenty-nine, ace. leave a light on ;)_

[Harry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRpzJabYlQQ) exhales shakily, dropping his phone on his bed. “Shit,” he mumbles, looking down at what he’s wearing. Still the clothes that he wore out with Louis, who has definitely changed into something else by now. Harry finds himself hustling to put on different clothes; sweats and a tank top because… he simply isn’t sure what else to wear. He fixes his hair and brushes his teeth and paints his nails and looks at himself in the mirror on his bedroom door at least a dozen times before he finally hears tapping at the window.

Louis’ standing on the ledge, looking in expectantly. Harry slides the window up and rests his elbows on the windowsill. “Can I help you?” he asks, licking his lips.

“Let me in before my feet start to slip? I don’t think I’m as agile as I used to be, Styles,” Louis pleads, but he’s grinning, wide with sparkling eyes in the moonlight. Harry isn’t sure how he’s supposed to survive all of this all over again. But his unsureness doesn’t stop Harry from letting Louis in (it never has and probably never will). They don’t say anything. Louis makes himself comfortable against Harry’s pillows while Harry locks the door and then Harry’s just _standing_ there.

It’s like he’s forgotten the protocol for What to do When Louis Tomlinson is Sitting on Your Bed; and all Louis Tomlinson is doing is sitting there smiling at him. “Hi,” Harry says finally, dumbly. It’s all he could think.

“Hey,” Louis replies, voice soft because he still knows, even after all this time, that Gemma is right next door and while the walls aren’t thin, they aren’t exactly thick.

Harry finally sits down on the bed, close to Louis but not _too_ close (Harry isn’t sure he knows what _too close_ would be; he figures they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it). Louis looks him up and down, eyes lingering on Harry’s fingernails before coming up and meeting his eyes. “You painted your nails,” he points out.

“Yeah, I-”

“It looks good, H. I like it on you,” Louis smiles warmly at him, and Harry thinks now he’s going to paint his nails every single day for the rest of his life. “Please tell me if I’m so far off-base I’m not even playing baseball anymore, and tell me to fuck right off,” Louis whispers, all in one breath as he leans closer to Harry and closing the distance between them.

Harry kisses Louis back slowly, because right now they have the entire night and he wants to take his time going wherever they decide they’re going to end up. He leans into Louis, kissing him just a little bit harder. He wants more, and hopes this conveys it to Louis.

“Hey, Haz,” Louis murmurs, putting a hand on Harry’s cheek. “Are you sure we should do this?”

Harry nods. “I want to. Whatever happens tomorrow or in a week or a year, I want this right now. With you.”

Louis’ hands slip down Harry’s torso, toying with the hem of his shirt before starting to hike it up his back. Harry lets his own shirt come off before hurriedly going for Louis’. “You should know…” Louis trails off, running his fingertips over the butterfly tattoo on Harry’s stomach. “I don’t usually put out this early.”

Harry laughs against his lips. He doesn’t mention that technically, it’s not _early,_ not by any means. It’s not their first kiss, their first date, or even their first time. This is a moment eight years waiting, but Harry keeps this thought to himself for the time being.

This isn’t their first _anything_ together, all of this is coming with a vast familiarness. Louis works his body with expertise and skill that makes Harry feel like they never missed those eight years. This is all he’s wanted for the longest time, ever since Louis’ last summer in Bonnet, over those eight years that they were apart and a part of Harry always wished for Louis to come back. This moment has been a decade in the making (Harry thinks it was worth the wait).

 

Harry wakes up and is immediately shocked by the feeling of another body in his bed. The whole summer (and for about a year prior to this) he’s slept by himself, but now he’s got a warm body pressed to his back. Shock hits Harry again when he quickly remembers that the body is _Louis_.

He tries to slip out of bed without waking Louis up, but fails, because apparently suddenly Louis is a light sleeper. Louis groans and rolls over away from Harry, burying his face in the pillow. “What time’s it?” he mumbles.

“I dunno. Nine? You can go back to sleep if you want,” Harry whispers, tracing gentle fingertips over Louis’ tan back. He’s gotten so much color this summer it’s insane, his skin’s painted warm golden tan and his tattoos pop out and Harry’s just… struggling.

You see, Louis is so beautiful and Harry is only so strong. Louis is a man who knows he’s attractive, knows he’s confident, and knows exactly what he wants, so he uses all of those things to his advantage. He walks into a room and his smile brightens it up or his mood might make it heavy, depending on the day. Louis walks into a room, any room, and all the walls fall down (all the walls within _Harry_ fall down). He walks with purpose and confidence and a sureness in his step. Louis Tomlinson has earthquakes rumbling beneath his skin and Harry Styles has felt too much of them to ever let them go. Louis Tomlinson is the ocean, Harry has continually come to this conclusion.

“Me mum’s gonna throw a fit if I’m not in the house when she comes knocking,” Louis says suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows and wiping his face. “She’ll report me missing immediately.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t think she’ll do _that.”_

“She’ll at least call your mum and then Anne’s gonna have to come ask if you’ve seen me and then we’ll get found out, kid. It’s a chain reaction.”

“Two minutes ago you could hardly speak and now you’re capable of articulating everything that could go wrong?” Harry quirks an eyebrow.

Louis laughs. “At least I didn’t use big words like _capable_ and _articulating,”_ he teases. “I really should sneak back over. I don’t want your mum finding us like this.”

“Can you wait? I have something for you,” Harry grins, leaning in closer to Louis.

Harry manages to convince Louis to stay. He kind of forces it, really, he presses Louis down onto the bed and kisses him; on the lips and his cheeks and his jaw and his _neck,_ that really gets Louis going.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Harry murmurs, beginning to work a bruise into Louis’ neck. “You should answer it.”

Louis groans, reaching blindly for his phone on the bedside table. “Hello?” he says, voice sounding slow and syrupy as Harry dips below the duvet, kissing his way down Louis’ still-bare torso. Harry can’t hear the conversation, but Louis’ voice sounds affected by what Harry’s doing beneath the sheets.

“Harry- he’s, running,” Louis gasps. Harry hears a thud - the phone hitting the pillow - and Harry pops his head out to grab it.

“I dunno who it is, but keep talking to them,” he whispers, placing the phone back in Louis’ hand.

“Fuck, fuck. I gotta go.”

The phone call abruptly ends, Louis pushing the duvet down to look at Harry. “You’re fucking killing me, ace. But I really, really gotta go. That was Lots, she knows I’m not in the house, so.”

 _So_ Louis gets up. And he puts on the clothes he came over in last night. And Harry opens the window for him. And Louis kisses him one last time before climbing out. And Harry watches him go.

 _falling in love is not rational.  
_ _it’s madness. a beautiful,  
_ _wonderful moment of  
_ _magnificent insanity.  
_ _-michael faudet._

[Louis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4SLx6-olRM) manages to slip back into his house unheard, thankfully his mum hasn’t come out of her room yet. Lottie is standing in her doorway and she gives him a look, but Louis ignores her. He tries to go back to sleep, but doesn’t have much luck doing that, so he smokes a cigarette and takes a shower and when he gets out, Zayn happens to be calling. Louis hasn’t spoken to Zayn in a week or so.

“It’s early,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

Zayn scoffs. “And? I know you’re up early when you have someone sleep over.”

“Technically, I stayed at his. I guess H told you?”

“Yeah, he shot me a text before you snuck over last night. He was nervous. I told him to relax because you’re no one to get nervous over.” Louis rolls his eyes at what Zayn says, but doesn’t get a chance to reply, because Zayn keeps talking. “You’re sure about this?”

He can’t act like he didn’t know that question was coming. “I… I’m still not entirely sure, no. But I’ll never be sure if I don’t try, so.”

“Alright, Lou. Just be careful. We’ll all kill you if you hurt him again as badly as you did last time. He’s not the same Harry he was when you left him, and you’re not the same Louis.”

“We’ll figure it out, Zaynie. I’m a grown man. Please check on the flat for me, I’ll see you when I come home,” Louis blows kisses into the phone and hangs up on Zayn.

He heads downstairs, only to find his mum in the kitchen.

“You’re up,” she notes, taking down a second mug when she sees him come into the kitchen. “Want a cuppa?”

“Sure, thanks.” Louis replies, sitting at the kitchen island while his mother puts on a kettle. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in awhile, you’ve been out and about quite a bit. How’re you doing?” She turns and looks at him, and Louis knows if he doesn’t say something now, he never will.

“I think Harry and I are gonna try again,” he blurts, knee bouncing anxiously.

Jay’s face softens, and Louis thinks for a moment she’s going to _laugh_ at him. “I figured that’s what was going on. I thought you’d try to sneak around a bit more before telling me.”

Louis can’t help it - his mouth falls open. “How… how’d you know?”

Jay rolls her eyes, putting the cup of tea down in front of him. “Loubear, I’m your mum. I’ve known Harry for as long as you have, and I’ve known you since you were born, obviously. I know how the two of you work, you’re not much different now. You’ve been sneaking off all summer, you’ve been moody all summer, you’ve been on and off with him all summer, Lou. I don’t know the details of what happened, I’m thinking maybe one day you’ll tell me, but just because I haven’t been told directly doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ve been seeing him all summer, I guess. Kind of. I was really reluctant to it, because I just… didn’t think there was a way we’d work. It’s been eight years since we saw each other, I thought there was no way we could still have any feelings towards each other.”

“He was your first real relationship. You two were ready to settle down.”

“ _He_ was ready to settle down. That’s why it didn’t work.”

“So then why are you trying again?” Jay seems like she came prepared for this, like she knew Louis would come down wanting to talk about this and planned out all the questions and facts she was going to hit him with. She’s putting him in his place, Louis’ mum has always been good at doing that.

“Because this entire fucking summer I haven’t stopped _thinking_ about him and I haven’t been able to make up my mind about what I want and I just owe it to him to try, alright? That’s why. I broke his heart once with no explanation and I think he deserves more from me and I owe it to him to try to give it.”

Jay nods, as if she’s giving Louis’ testimonial her approval. Jay has approved of Louis’ actions, all can resume as planned. “Good. I think you do, too. I think letting him go was the biggest mistake of your life. And you were _killing_ him this summer, Louis William. I wasn’t going to watch you break his heart like this, _again.”_

Louis goes to reply to that, he’d make a sarcastic remark about how everybody cares about Harry’s feelings more than they care about his own, but his phone pings in his pocket and Louis scrambles to get it.

_Can I see you soon? xoxo_

He feels himself smile at the simple, slightly clingy text from Harry. _i just left, ace…_

The three dots pop up immediately after Louis sends his reply. _And???? I wanna see you again xxxxxxx_

Louis sends an eye roll emoji, but quickly types out another answer. _come have a cuppa with me and mum :)_

Harry doesn’t send a text back. Not three minutes later, he’s knocking on the back door and welcoming himself right in. Jay fawns over him immediately, asking questions about his music and when he plays the pub again so she can finally come see him. She gets him a cup of tea and Harry finally, finally acknowledges Louis’ presence.

“Hi,” he says softly, sitting at the island next to Louis.

Louis glances away from Harry and over at his mum, who’s begun putting dishes away with her back turned toward them. He leans in and kisses Harry on the lips, just once, gently. When he pulls back, Harry’s got the most dopey grin on his face that Louis’ ever seen.

“What’s in your plans today, boys?” Jay asks, turning around to face them again.

Louis shrugs, looking over at Harry. “Dunno. Spend time with the family, I guess. I don’t wanna get drunk today.”

“There’s other things to do besides get drunk, Louis.” His mother looks at him disapprovingly. Louis grins at her. “We could go on the boat. Could just relax around here. Or go into town. There’s a plethora of things to do here, Louis William. You can be sober for all of them.”

Louis grins. “We could go into town? I’m sure the girls could find something to do there.”

Jay looks at him carefully. “You really want to bring them into town? You know they’re only going to make you buy things, right?”

Louis shrugs. “It’s alright, I guess. We can go. Ernie and Doris love it there, too. We’ll take a family day.” he decides, waiting for his mother’s nod of approval before turning to Harry. “You’ll come with us?”

Harry’s looking at Louis funny, like he can’t believe the things Louis is saying, or maybe like he’s speaking a completely different language altogether. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come,” Harry says, voice sounding distant even though he’s _right_ here.

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

“No reason. Just looking at you.”

He reaches forward and taps Harry on the cheek, nowhere near a slap, just to snap him out of things a little bit. Harry only smiles, gaze falling somewhere behind Louis as someone else comes into the kitchen.

It’s Lottie, pouring herself a cup of coffee immediately. “Good morning, mum. Louis. _Harry._ Did y’spend the night here?”

Harry stumbles upon his answer before producing a firm _no._ Louis shoots Lottie a glare, and she hides a smirk in her mug. The morning picks up in speed as the other girls get up, the kitchen crescendoing into loud chatter and laughter and the sound of the old coffee maker sputtering.

“We’re gonna go into town, do some shopping, eat lunch, just hang out for a bit.” Jay says, leaning against the counter. The second she begins speaking, all of her children look at her expectantly, and nod along with her plan for the day. “Oh, and lunch is on Louis.”

Louis rolls his eyes, taking a sip from his tea as she kisses him on the cheek. “be ready in thirty minutes, gang!” she says cheerily.

Alone in the kitchen again, Louis turns and looks at Harry. “You totally don’t have to come, I know I kind of threw you into it there and my mum was standing here too so-”

Harry cuts Louis off by kissing him, soft and sweet and tasting like tea and mint. “Stop rambling. It’s adorable, but you’ve gotta stop. It’s fine. I want to come. You know I love your family. And, besides, you’re buying lunch,” with that, Harry winks and leaves the kitchen.

Louis’ left with his mouth hanging open, wanting to kiss Harry again but also kind of wanting to smack him for real this time. He does neither, instead he helps Ernie and Doris get ready to go and meets up with Harry again in the kitchen.

“I’m gonna run over and change, I don’t wanna go out in this.” Harry says. “Don’t wear anything flowy and tropical, I call dibs.”

“Are you telling me I have to change?” Louis arches his eyebrows.

Harry looks Louis up and down, surveying his joggers and tee shirt. “I mean, I’m not complaining about it, but… I can totally tell that you’re free-balling it, whether that just be my keen eye or the fact that it’s just painfully obvious, I’ll let you decide.”

“Or maybe you’re just staring at my crotch?” Louis suggests.

Harry shrugs. “Sue me. But… One, you can’t free ball it with your family. Second of all, you can’t when we’re walking through town because there might be other keen or simple, mortal folk who can’t look away from your crotch. And I don’t want anyone else looking.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Louis marvels, shaking his head. “I’ll see you in a few, ace.”

Louis gets changed into black skinny jeans and a white tee shirt, adjusting his hair and praying cologne before heading back downstairs.

“Hey, love. You ready to go?” Jay asks. “Where’s Harry?”

“Costume change,” Louis replies, sliding on his Vans and grabbing his sunglasses from the table by the door. He steps outside, pleased to be greeted by rather cool air, instead of the humidity they’d been facing for several long summer days.

Daisy and Phoebe are already outside messing around with Ernie and Doris, so Louis gets in on that while he waits for Harry to come back outside. He finally does, just as Dan is locking the door to their own house. Harry’s wearing the tightest black jeans Louis’ ever seen him wear, with a patterned shirt unbuttoned a few and these black boots and Louis just can’t believe this is his casual, going-into-town look.

“And we’re off!” Jay calls.

They start walking, Harry walking next to Louis without saying anything. The whole family walks into town a big, rowdy bunch. Louis imagines store owners shutting their doors due to the Tomlinson storm that’s moving in. “So is this your casual look?” Louis asks finally, glancing over at Harry’s outfit as they come to the first stop: a little shop that Daisy and Phoebe tend to get their Bonnet Outfits in.

“Are you telling me this isn’t another date?” Harry fires back. He stops short, leaning in close to Louis’ ear. “I’m not wearing any pants,” he whispers, absolutely pointlessly. That was the _same_ thing he yelled at Louis for this morning. 

Louis laughs, holding the door open for everyone else as they go through. That split second of needing to be a gentleman separates Louis from Harry for a little bit, but Louis quickly finds him again in the store, looking at a display case of jewelry.

“Hey, baby.” he breathes out, standing beside Harry. He hears himself say _baby_ , and is shocked by how easily it comes out of his mouth. If Harry hears it, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I don’t think I’m gonna find anything in here,” Harry says, still staring hard at what’s in the case. “Thought maybe I’d find something for my mum, but nothing’s caught my eye.”

“You’ll find something. Maybe we could find some baby stuff for Gems?”

Louis sees the excitement in Harry’s eyes when he mentions the baby. “That’s a brilliant idea, Lou. I’ll have to keep an eye out.”

They move on to the next store, and the next, and the next. Finally, Jay and Dan break off with the younger kids to get ice cream and Lottie, Tommy, and Fizzy head for the pretty little boutique while Harry and Louis stand in the middle of the sidewalk deciding where they want to go.

“They’ve got baby stuff in that boutique,” Louis points to where his sisters just went. “After we could go to the record shop?”

Harry nods. They head in, immediately overwhelmed by the strong smell of perfume that hits them. But Harry pushes on, looking at cute things and _aww_ -ing at some of them, but not picking any up. He does pick up a vintage-looking Stones tee, and decides that’s all he wants. While they’re standing on line, a little rose ring on the counter catches Louis’ eye. He puts it up when Harry places his shirt to be checked out.

Harry doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary until Louis hands over his credit card to pay. “Hey! What’re–”

“Let me pay, H. I got it.” he says calmly, taking his card back from the cashier.

A soft smile settles over Harry’s face that Louis swears he can feel in his heart as they leave the boutique and head for the record shop.

They’re still in there, combing through hundreds of vinyls, when the rest of the Tomlinson family comes looking for them. Louis ends up buying Daisy a book, Phoebe a couple CDs, and Harry a hefty stack of vinyls to add to his collection. He doesn’t complain once, not when Daisy makes him buy the book or Phoebe the CDs. He doesn’t complain when Jay asks if Harry will be joining them for a fire tonight and if Louis will supply the alcohol, not when he has to dish out even more money for cheeseburgers at the local restaurant.

He feels lighter (maybe due to the loss of money), but doesn’t even care. It’s a good lighter.

The cigarette craving hits when they’re on the walk home; he’d held off for so long and had been having such a great time that he hadn’t even realized he wasn’t wanting to smoke one.

“You alright?” Harry asks, seeming to pick up on the jitters that have finally set in for Louis.

“I [think](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ix9NXVIbm2A) I need a smoke.” he replies, keeping his voice low. “I just ate and it’s like–”

“A routine. Craving. I get it, Lou. Why don’t you smoke one?”

“I didn’t bring them with me,” Louis looks over at him. “Didn’t think I’d need them.”

Harry exhales heavily, nodding. He glances down at Louis’ hands, which, as they often do, have begun trembling ever so slightly. Then Harry grabs Louis’ right hand. They’re holding hands. “It’s just a smoke, Lou. You can grab one when we get home.”

Louis swallows hard, staring at their intertwined hands. “Exactly. Just a smoke.”

He hasn’t properly craved a smoke all summer, so Louis doesn’t know _what’s_ up. He does know, however, that he has to quit. He’s just glad Harry doesn’t bring that up. When they get home, his family scatters, while Louis and Harry head outside to sit on the back deck. Louis sits further away from Harry, grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the table and taking one out before dropping it back on the couch.

“You don’t want one, do you?” Louis offers, just to strike up a conversation. He feels like it might fall silent out here and he doesn’t want that.

Harry shakes his head. “I have asthma, Louis.” he deadpans, but can’t hide the small smile that’s coming up on his face.

“That’s never stopped you before, Harold. If you were really concerned about your asthma then all those times we got high, you wouldn’t have even touched the joint.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I _know._ I’m just teasing you. No, I don’t want a cigarette, thank you. Do you still smoke?”

“What, pot?” Louis shakes his head. “I’m a school teacher now, kid. I have to be responsible.” Harry quirks an eyebrow at him, and Louis cracks. “Only occasionally. With Zayn.”

They don’t say anything for a minute or two. Louis smokes, Harry watches. “Louis,” Harry says suddenly, “Did you, like, see anyone?”

“What do you mean?” Louis _knows_ what he means, he’s not sure why he asks for clarification; but now Harry’s sat before him stumbling over his words trying to work out his sentence and Louis’ endeared.

“I mean… Did you, you know. Um. Date. Anyone. After we split up and before now.”

“Yeah, I did. And I made it a point to pull at clubs. I won’t lie to you about that, Harry, ever,” Louis says seriously, putting out his cigarette and sitting cross-legged, facing Harry.

Harry nods. “I know, I’m not saying you would! I just… when was the last time?”

Louis thinks for a moment. “The last time I dated anybody was… almost a year ago. The last time I slept with someone? It was the day school got out, Z and I went to the club to celebrate summer or whatever. Then a week later I came here. Now I’ve slept with you. D’you want me to give you a body count or something?”

“No!” Harry exclaims. “No, you don’t owe me that. I was just curious. I’ve been thinking about it a little bit, that’s all.”

“I haven’t had anything serious with anyone in almost a year,” Louis says definitively. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Bambi.”

The nickname falls out of Louis’ mouth naturally; Harry hasn’t been called Bambi by _anyone_ as far as Louis knows. That’s an age old nickname, Anne used to call Harry that when he was little, Louis only found out about it because Gemma shared it with him, trying to embarrass Harry. Louis had his own nicknames for Harry when they were younger, ones he still uses now, but Bambi has remained untouched all these years later.

“I’ve gone all the way with five people. You were one of them, so that makes it four without you. The last one was over a year ago, and all we did was get off in the club bathroom.”

Louis looks at him carefully. “So I was your first handjob in a year. And your first sex hookup in…”

“Eighteen months?” Harry winces when he says it, but Louis doesn’t let him know that he _loves_ knowing that.

He smirks, moving over closer to Harry, so they can face each other. They sit on the couch and talk, playing catch up again and making Louis feel like _this_ is all he’s ever wanted to do; sit and talk to Harry about anything and everything.

They spend the day messing around, going in and out of the water and playing footie and taking quick power naps in the sun. Louis gets competitive playing footie, boasting when he beats Harry and Lottie.

Harry collapses on his back in the sand, and Louis takes the opportunity to rub his win in a little bit more. Harry’s eyes shoot open when Louis straddles his waist, grinning down at him. “I won.” he hums, leaning down over him and pressing Harry’s wrists into the sand. “You’re helplessly under my control.”

Harry nods, eyes dark and Louis _knows_ exactly what he’s thinking. “You’re shit at soccer,” Louis presses further, and Harry nods. “You’re so fuckin’ easy, ace.”

He stands up then, offering Harry his hands and hauling him to his feet. “You’re such a little shit,” Harry breathes out. “I’m going in the water.”  

The sun starts to set earlier than normal, but the second it starts dipping lower, Dan builds a fire and they start rolling beers out.

Louis and Harry share a lounge chair, even when Anne and Gemma come outside. “I’m gonna go grab another beer,” Louis says, pushing himself up from the lounger and dislodging Harry from his comfortable spot. “Want one?”

Harry shakes his head. Louis hurries to the cooler and back, wanting to save as much body heat as he can. It’s started cooling off, but that’s not stopping him from drinking an ice cold beer. “It’s nice tonight,” he says lowly, perching himself in Harry’s lap and grabbing the blanket from the end of the lounger.

Harry presses a kiss behind Louis’ ear, nodding. “It is. Lemme have a sip?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You said you didn’t want one.”

“I just want a sip, Lou,” Harry whines.

He, of course, gives the drink over without pressing any further. He settles into Harry’s chest and listens to Gemma and Lottie talk about baby things. No one pays them any mind; it’s like they’ve traveled eight years back in time and seeing Louis and Harry like this is the norm. (Louis can’t say he hasn’t missed it).

“Come over after this?” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, starting a conversation that’s just for them. “Since both our mums know, you don’t have to sneak over.”

Louis nods, taking a sip of his beer. “I won’t get drunk, just so I perform better for you,” he winks.

Harry laughs. “I never said you were getting any tonight, you absolute perv.”

When Louis tells his mum that he’s going to Harry’s for a little while and that he’ll probably come home but that she doesn’t have to wait up, Jay pulls him in for a lengthy hug. Louis doesn’t protest it, he just lets her have her moment. Harry drags Louis upstairs at his house immediately, wanting to avoid his family (a sentiment Louis appreciates and definitely understands).

“You’re seriously not getting any tonight,” Harry says, laying down in bed still in his jeans and flowy shirt. “We’re not fucking in my bed _again._ That’ll be two nights in a row here, and zero in yours.”

Louis hovers over him, kissing Harry’s jaw. “Who says we have to rotate? Is there a rulebook or a referee I can consult?”

Harry groans a little when Louis sucks a light bruise into his neck, and that’s all the reaction Louis needs to know that eventually, he will get what he wants. So he keeps at it, the teasing and the talking and the kissing until he feels Harry’s semi against his thigh. “Lemme take care of you, baby,” Louis begs, running a hand through Harry’s hair and looking him in the eye.

“Fuck, Louis.”

“ _Baby,_ please.”

“You’re absolutely insatiable, you know that?” Harry breathes. “Now you’ve gotta get us off because I’m not going to sleep with you like this.”

“Aha!” Louis exclaims, victorious. “Tommo’s getting laid again, ladies and gents. Two nights in a _row_ with the absolutely untamable Harry Styles.”

“God, you’re an idiot. Why do I want you to fuck me again.” Harry shakes his head, reaching for the button on Louis’ pants.

 _That_ gets to Louis. He thought they’d give mutual blowjobs, something quick and easy. Of course, he’s not going to complain about a home run. “Yeah?” he asks, voice soft.

“Louis, I’ve wanted you to fuck me everyday for, like, eight years.” And, okay. That’s all Louis needs to knock off the act and get what he and Harry both want so desperately.

 

In the morning, they awake to banging on the bedroom door. “We’re up,” Harry groans.

Louis buries his head further in the pillow. “No, we’re not!” he calls.

Harry laughs, turning and pressing his face into Louis’ neck. After a few moments of just laying there and trying to wake themselves up, Louis and Harry do finally pull themselves from the bed. Louis borrows a sweater from Harry and a toothbrush and they head downstairs.

“What time’s it?” Louis asks, sitting at the dining room table and resting his head on his folded arms.

“It’s just after nine, love. D’you guys want pancakes?”

Louis nods, but doesn’t pick his head up. He does slide a hand down from the table and grabs Harry’s hand underneath it. He could fall asleep here, Harry’s hand in his own and his head comfortably resting on his other arm. “You should start eating, Lou. Gemma’s kids are gonna come in here and eat them for you,” Harry says, rubbing Louis’ back.

Louis sits up finally, looking over at Harry. “You wouldn’t defend my pancakes?”

“Lou, all those babies have to do is _look_ at me and I melt. They could take your pancakes and your cuppa and everything you have.”

“Can I have a kiss?” Louis asks softly, already leaning in. Harry meets him, placing a gentle peck on Louis’ lips. Louis hums, chasing after Harry’s lips once more for another kiss before digging into his pancakes.

“You’re shameless,” Harry murmurs.

 

“[Harry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4r06C2zLSM)?” Louis asks later, when he’s back in his house, perched on the kitchen counter. Harry’s making guacamole for the girls, having taken over for Jay so she could go outside and spend time with her family.

“Yeah?”

“Is this, like, gonna turn into a thing?”

Harry’s silent for what feels like an eternity. It might as well be, to Louis. He doesn’t ask questions like this. Louis just lets things play out and doesn’t talk about how serious or not serious they are unless someone else brings them up. But here he is, diving in and asking Harry what they’re going to do; Louis isn’t even sure why he asks it, the question just rises in him and he can’t push it back down.

“Do you want it to?” Harry replies finally, looking up at Louis.

“Haz… I’m twenty eight years old.”

“And I’m twenty six, thanks for the reminder,” Harry says sarcastically.

“I feel like I can’t dive into shit unless I _know_ it’s serious. Unless I know it’s real.” And, shit, Louis’ baring his soul and he’s completely sober, that’s the shocking part to him.

Harry exhales heavily. “Louis, I’ve waited eight years for you. The second you _looked_ at me for the first time this summer, I fell right back in and realized that maybe, I never even left where I was before; I never stopped feeling the way that I did about you. I found myself longing for you with every fiber of my _being,_ I wrote you into all my songs this summer and for some fucking reason I couldn’t stop wanting to kiss you.”

Louis’ heart aches at Harry speaks. He doesn’t want to cause this much turmoil. He just wants to be _sure._ “What’re you saying, H?”

Harry picks up the bowl of guacamole he’s made and heads for the door. For a second, Louis thinks Harry’s going to walk out without finishing this conversation. But he stops, and looks at Louis again with his trademark green eyes and dimpled smile (though they’re both looking a bit sad). “I’m saying that whenever you decide what you want to do, I’ll still be waiting for you.”

With that, he leaves the kitchen. Louis sits on the counter in silence, mulling over everything that’s happened over the course of the entire summer – and the years before this. Eight entire years went by. Eight years where Louis moved on, made a life, became his own person without Harry Styles there. Then, one day he comes back to Bonnet and sees Harry Styles and all his walls came crashing down again, and he hasn’t been able to rebuild them since.

Harry told Louis that he was the ocean on one of their first drunken encounters. If Louis’ the ocean, Harry’s definitely the shore; something Louis keeps on coming back to over and over again.

The next person that walks through the door isn’t Harry, but Jay. “Hey, boo. What’re you doing? Harry already came out, I’m surprised you weren’t with him.”

Louis shrugs. “I figured he was coming back.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I just… don’t know what to do, mum.”

Jay looks at him sadly. “I don’t know why you’re so torn up about this, baby. You’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you this summer, at least for the most part. And then you started really hanging out with Harry again - romantically, the way you used to - and you became a completely different person.”

“I’m just scared I can’t give him what he wants. He still wants the white picket fence and I don’t know if I can give it to him. I don’t know how we’d work, we have separate lives now.”

“You don’t think you want the white picket fence? Lou, you’ve wanted the white picket fence for years now. You can give him the white picket fence if he wants the white picket fence. But, boo, that boy looks at you like you put the moon in the sky for him, he looks at you like he’d do _anything_ for you. If you talked to him about what you wanted, he’d listen and he’d probably give it to you.”

“Every time I try to talk about it, it just seems like I’m backing out and I don’t want it to because I’m _not,_ I don’t want to back out. I just want to make sure that we’re both ready for this, that we can both do it. I’m twenty eight, mum. I don’t wanna sleep around anymore. I want him back, I really do. All summer I’ve remembered every single thing that happened between us when we were younger and I want to have it again.”

Jay doesn’t say anything for a moment. She has her thinking face on, Louis knows he gets the exact same one. “Write about it.”

“What?”

“Write a song about it. Him. Harry. What’s happening. How you feel. If you can’t say it, sing it. You’re good at that, love. You’ll figure it out.” With that, she pats his thigh and leaves.

Louis takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself. After taking a moment, he gets off the counter, takes two beers from the fridge, and goes up to his room. He sits there, on his bedroom floor with his notebook in his lap, and stares at the blank page. His mum said that he should write about it. This is Louis trying.

He moves to sit on the balcony and smoke a cigarette and tries to get his creative juices flowing. The words hit him suddenly, after he’s lit up and has been staring at the ocean for a few minutes and has been listening to the sounds of the chatter down below.

The second his pen hits the paper, Louis can’t stop. He writes and writes and isn’t even sure if the lyrics he’s writing connect, if they’re part of the same song, but he keeps writing. He keeps on writing because he’s not sure of what it could produce. His summer writing classes at NYU taught him that he should never stop writing, no matter how shitty it might sound.

Later, Louis falls asleep at the wrong end of his bed, poring over his notebook.

 

He wakes up in the morning with pen streaked across his cheek and a wrinkled page. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pushing himself upright. He feels around for his phone in the dim light of morning, finding it on his pillow. He’s got a couple Twitter notifications, storage updates, and finally, two texts from Harry.

The first at seven forty last night, offering Louis s’mores. The second just after eleven, saying that they’ll see each other in the morning. It’s only seven fifteen. Louis groans. But he gets up, leaving his writing because he can’t bare to look at it yet, and takes a quick shower, feeling gross after sleeping the way he did.

Once he’s washed up and feels at least a little less tired, Louis sneaks downstairs for a cuppa that he brings _back_ up to his room. He sits on his bed again and picks up the notebook. “My handwriting is such shit,” he tells himself, shaking his head. Even though Louis’ handwriting is shit, he can still figure out what he’s saying, for the most part.

Louis sighs heavily, looking hard at the notebook. He greatly wishes they had a keyboard or a guitar laying around; then he thinks about it and Harry’s got his guitar, but Louis doesn’t want to wake him. He makes do with what he has, a vague melody in his head that he can hum and his own chicken-scratch handwriting in his notebooks.

“Okay,” he breathes. “This is really fucking sappy, but this is it.”

Once he’s decided that it’s done, the song his mother had suggested he write is complete, Louis goes over to Harry’s. He stands underneath the window, throwing little pebbles and sending Harry text messages to come outside. Usually H is up by now, Louis notes, so there’s a good chance that he’s awake.

Harry doesn’t open the window, instead comes right outside, dressed for a run (that means Louis was right about Harry already being awake). He looks shocked to see Louis standing there. “You didn’t get my texts?” Louis hypothesizes, hands gripping the notebook tighter while his heart tells him to give it to Harry.

“No… My phone’s– it doesn’t matter. No, I didn’t. What’re you doing here? I’m running, so we  can’t fuck now.”

[Louis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55pDVsFdoA4) shakes his head. “I don’t want to fuck. Last night, I talked to my mum, as I often do. And I’m real shit with words sometimes. I say the wrong thing to you and you give me more chances than I know I’ll ever deserve. I told my mum this, because she’s one of the only people – besides you – that seem to understand what I’m saying even when I don’t know what I’m saying. Jay told me to write a song, because that’s what I’m good at, and because you can’t say the wrong thing if it’s in a song.”

Harry’s staring at him, expectantly, like Louis’ holding the key to everything, like he has the answer to how they’re supposed to fix this between them. Louis really, really hopes he’s got something. “So it’s, uh, it’s here. And I was sober when I wrote it. Well, two beers in but we both know that two beers do nothing to hinder me. It’s kinda sloppy but this is it. And I don’t have a guitar, so I’ve got the music in my head and some beats and shit written out on the paper.”

Louis’ hands are shaking when he holds the beat up notebook out to Harry. “Please just take it and read it so I can shut up before I say the wrong thing again,” he pleads.

Harry takes the notebook and flips to the page Louis’ marked. He stands there, absolutely stoic, while he reads over what Louis wrote. Then his eyes flit up to Louis, and back to the page. He reads it again.

“You wrote this last night?” he asks finally, still looking at the page. Louis can see that Harry’s hands are shaking too.

“I mean, yeah. I think the idea for it has been there for a long time.”

“What’s it called?” Harry’s voice cracks like he’s about to cry. Louis’ heart yells to hold him. Louis’ feet don’t let him move.

“I, uh, I think I’m gonna call it _Home.”_

Harry sniffles, nodding. “Louis.”

“Harry?”

“I think you’re an absolute tosser. But this song is really beautiful and I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen and I don’t think I’m ever going to stop. You’re shit with words and you throw a temper tantrum the second you don’t think you’re going to get your way. But I’m still going to go on my run, I’m going to think about you the entire time, and I’m going to try to figure out if we’ll be able to pull this off.”

He hands the notebook back, puts his hood up and takes off. Louis trudges back to his own house, where his mum’s waiting in the kitchen. She tries to play it off like she wasn’t watching the two of them out the window, but Louis knows her too well. “I know you were watching us,” he tells her, putting his notebook on the countertop.

“What’d he say?”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno. He’s gonna think about it. I showed him the song and he read it and he said it was good and now he’s on his run.”

“Do you know what _you_ want?” Jay asks, looking at him carefully. Louis knows she’s going to try to doctor him up, and for once, he’s welcoming it.

“I think… I think this whole summer I’ve been trying to tell myself all of the reasons why we _can’t_ be in love after all this time, without acknowledging all of the reasons why I very well might _still_ be in love with him.”

This realization came to Louis while he was writing last night. He’d spent the entire summer trying to convince himself that there’s no way he and Harry can still be in love, that there was a reason they broke up and _stayed_ broken up all this time, that now they’re older and they’re different people. It happened every single time he gave Harry Styles any thought; Louis would have to talk himself down. While he was writing, he realized that maybe he should’ve been looking at the other side a bit more than he was.

“And what are those reasons?”

Jay’s definitely doctoring him, and Louis’ definitely letting it happen. “I figured eight years was a lot of time. That just because we’re back here doesn’t mean we’re still in love, it’s just a nostalgic thing that will fade. But it never faded, I just kept telling myself to quit it.”

“How do you know you’re still in love with him?”

“I just… I hardly sleep at night. And my heart races whenever there’s a chance I’m going to run into him, and when I’m with him I feel like absolutely no time has passed whatsoever. I feel like I’m sixteen again, mum. I feel like I’m right back where I started with him and I _like_ the way that feels”

“I knew you’d figure it out,” she smiles softly, nodding at him. “You need to tell him that, now. Go for a walk or a drive or whatever, and tell him that. You’re all in, Louis. Tell him.”

“Shit, mum. Have I ever told you how fucking grateful I am that you know me better than I know myself?”

“You’re a rather simple man, boo.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “M’gonna go wait for Haz outside.” He kisses his mother on the cheek before heading out. He stands in the sand and pulls out his cigarettes, but after a moment of consideration, puts them back in his pocket.

“Hey,” Harry calls suddenly. Louis hadn’t even seen him.

“Hey, ace,” he replies casually, looking over at Harry.

“I saw that.” Harry nods his head, referencing the cigarettes. “Are you gonna quit?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Louis says quietly. “Listen, H. I know I’ve been an absolute dick. The biggest of them all. I know just because I’m having some kind of midlife crisis that I get to drag you into it, and I hate that I did.”

“Ah, you’ve become self aware,” Harry says teasingly.

“You’re still in love with me,” he says firmly. It’s a statement, not a question. He’s putting it out on the table and now they have to deal with it.

“I’d do anything to be able to deny that. I hate that I am. I’d do _anything_ to be able to tell you no, tell my mum no, tell myself no.”

“Why?”

“So many things should have changed. But we’re back and I’ve seen you naked and I’ve had you in all the ways that I used to have you and I _missed_ it. I missed you. I never stopped loving you, Louis. I’ve told you a dozen times. You want to hear that there wasn’t a day that went by over the last eight years where I didn’t think of you? That when I saw you here I was so overwhelmed I didn’t know what to _do_ with myself? That all those times we kissed and ignored it or left, all I wanted to do was stay with you?”

“I want you to tell me what to _do_ about it!” Louis exclaims. “I’m going to stand here and pull my fucking hail-mary, kid. This is my last attempt at making things right.” Louis’ mind is telling him to run, run and not look back. But his heart makes him stay put.

“I mean, you saw that song, Haz. I have more just like it if you want to see them. I’m still in love with you. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but it clearly didn’t work because I still can’t sleep or eat or _breathe_ without you there. I don’t know how or why or what to do about it, but I know that this summer, I’ve never been happier than I was when I’m with you.”

Harry is silent for a long time. Louis forces himself to stay put. “You still love me?”

“So, so much, H. I _miss_ you.”

“You’re not going to run?” Harry’s eyes are welling up with tears and Louis hates knowing that he’s the one causing them. Again.

“Harry, you’re gonna have to do some really fucked up shit to get me to run. I don’t want to run.”

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You love me.”

“I’ll tattoo it on my fucking body forever, Haz. Shout it from the rooftops, write songs, tell everyone I know. I love you. I just– fuck. I’m talking complete shit, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, just a little bit. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Just… show me, you know? Show me that you’re here and that you love me.”  

Louis breaks out into a grin. “Whatever you need, baby.”

“You can start by letting me spend the entire day hanging out with your sisters, because I love them to death. Then tomorrow night we’ll both go out to the bar with Niall and Liam and get drunk and we’ll see how we do.”

“We’re getting drunk tomorrow?” Louis asks. That’s news to him, although he’s not going to complain.

“We’re leaving on Sunday. I play my last bar gig on Friday. We’re having an end of summer drunk-night,” Harry says, sounding like Louis should’ve already known this. “NIall didn’t tell you?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nope, but it’s fine. Obviously I’m coming, I wouldn’t miss your last gig.”

“Gem is coming too, so you can invite mum if you want.”

Louis’ heart lunges when Harry calls Jay _mum._ They did that all the time when they were younger, usually only when things were serious. He hasn’t referred to Anne nor heard Harry call Jay _mum_ in years, and he loves that Harry feels comfortable enough to. “Extending an invite to mum means you’re extending an invite to the whole family, right?” Louis asks finally, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry shrugs. “I figured. You Tomlinsons are kind of a package deal when it comes to things like this.”

“Harry Styles,” Louis murmurs. “I’m going to kiss you, and I’m sorry, but there’s not much you can do about it.”

“Louis Tomlinson, I’d love for you to.”

 _isn’t it[simple](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adJdGERzCN0)?  
_ _can you not see it by now?  
_ _we are worth it all.  
_ _-tyler knott gregson._

When drawing up his setlist for his last gig at the bar for an indefinite amount of time, Harry decides that it should be special. Anne and Gemma will be there, Louis and Jay and Lottie and Tommy will be there, Liam and Niall, not to mention countless bar goers who have seen Harry several times over the summer. It’s been a journey, a long, hard, and hot one, for all parties involved, and Harry wants to play a set that will round up his whole summer. _Their_ whole summer.

So he puts _Two Ghosts_ first, because that’s really how his summer started off. Distance and timing and heartache played a major role in his summer. While he plays, Harry can see Louis singing along to the song. It’s a moment he tucks in his back pocket for later.

Next comes _Girl Crush,_ purely because Harry has always loved that song. Louis will give him shit for it, like Louis always does, just because Louis doesn’t really like country music.

He throws _Story of my Life_ in there right alongside _History_ to be a killer, smooth-transitioned mashup that makes Niall and Liam both shout out in surprise and support and pure _joy. Kiwi_ gets a play because Harry fucking loves performing that, and Louis clearly gets into watching it.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate you all letting me unleash my inner rockstar over the past few months. Playing gigs at this pub has been one of the best parts of my summer, I loved every moment. To close us out I’m gonna sing a new song, I just wrote it a few days ago. It’s kind of… It rounds out one of the biggest things that happened to me over the summer and, like. Yeah. The person who this is about will know it’s about him, at least I hope, but it’s not even just about him. So try not to let it go to your head, love,” Harry says cheekily, positioning his hands on the guitar and clearing his throat.

He knows _Sweet Creature_ like the back of his hand despite having only written it a few days ago, but nerves still flow through Harry at the thought of Louis hearing the song. He manages to make it through nearly the whole song without messing up, thankfully.

“ _Sweet creature, sweet creature, wherever I go, you bring me home. Sweet creature, sweet creature, when I run out of road–”_

Before Harry can finish the very last line, Liam, Niall, and Louis all shout it at the same time: _you bring me home._ Harry can’t help it; tears well up in his eyes and he’s choked up as he says his final thank you’s before disappearing into the crowded pub and into the back. He collects himself here, putting away the guitar in the case and checking his phone.

Louis’ texted him between now and getting off stage, clingy, questioning messages that make Harry’s heart pound.

 **From Lou:** _styles where r u im tipsy and ur not even back yet :((((((((_

 **From Lou:** _u owe me such a good dance ;((((((_

Harry rolls his eyes at the messages, stuffs his phone in his pocket, and heads back out into the pub. Everyone congratulates him, then his mum, Gemma, Lottie, and Jay decide that they’re going to take off. Louis is the last person Harry gets to talk to (maybe he was saving the best for last, sue him).

“Hey, baby,” Louis purrs, handing Harry a beer. “You did amazing.”

“Thanks, Lou. You drunk?”

“Eh. I’m getting there. You still owe me a really fucking good dance, ace. I mean really good. I wanna grab your arse.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Louis gets his dance, of course he does, after Harry’s got several drinks in him. Louis gets his hands on Harry’s ass, as requested, because Harry’s not one for denying Louis his simple pleasures. When there’s a change in pace over the speakers - going from club bangers to more mellow pop - he and Louis wind up tangled together, face to face, listening to Beyoncé sing about someone’s Halo. Louis’ got his face buried in Harry’s neck and Harry never wants to move from this position.

“I love you,” Louis says, smiling so big into Harry’s neck that he can feel it. Harry fucking loves when Louis smiles.

“There is not a single place out there, not a single time, where I’m not in love with you,” Harry replies.

Louis picks his head up to look at Harry. He kisses him as the lights in the club dim again and Harry feels it that they’re gearing up for a change in pace with music again, but he doesn’t want this moment to end.

Right now, Harry and Louis are just that - Harry and Louis - and they’re falling in love again with the world watching. “I think you’re still my favorite person,” Louis murmurs. Harry isn’t sure where this confessional is coming from, but he never wants it to end. “I was an idiot for not choosing you sooner. I plan on choosing you every single fucking day until we don’t get anymore days.”

“That still won’t be enough days,” Harry says softly.

Louis shakes his head. “Never will be enough days. Thank you for not turning your back on me when you very well should have.”

“Well,” Harry says, getting ready to lighten the mood. He knows that in the morning, Louis will regret baring his soul in the middle of the Bonnet pub. Bonnet has seen too much of Louis like this, Harry wants to keep it to himself. “They do say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”

Louis laughs out loud, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Let’s go get another round, shall we?”

********

[Harry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bx1Bh8ZvH84) wakes up in Louis’ bed for the first time in eight years. He’s almost moved to tears when he realizes that’s where he is. Louis is dead to the world next to him, so Harry lays there until he can’t anymore and decides to wake Louis up.

“ _Lou_ ,” he whines, kissing all over Louis’ face and neck. He hardly even stirs. “Wake up, I’m bored and lonely.”

“You’re clingy and you’ve been watching me sleep, ace. Watching people sleep is creepy.”

“It’s different when the person watching you is in love with you. And when they sucked your dick the night before.” Harry pouts. Louis finally opens his eyes, looking sleepy and beautiful. “I don’t want to be without you again.”

Louis gives him a funny look. “We’re gonna figure it out, love. I promise. I don’t wanna let you go, but I know we’re gonna figure it out.”  
Harry’s going to start crying, he can feel it and knows that Louis can see it. “I really, really don’t want to leave here,” he admits, voice already choked up.

But he sees Louis’ eyes getting teary too, and all of a sudden, Harry doesn’t feel like such a bitch for always crying over things like this. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that we lost those eight years and this entire fucking summer because I’m such a douche. I’m sorry for everything I said to you, this summer and before we split up.”

Harry rests his forehead against Louis’ and absentmindedly traces a hand over the tattoo on Louis’ chest. “We were young and dumb. We’re still young and dumb, but I think we’re a bit more put-together than we used to be. We’re not who we used to be, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis smiles at him, and Harry kisses him. Because he can. “I never stopped loving you. I want to try again. I don’t want to lose you.”

“We’re not going to lose each other. You’re stuck with me now, kid.”

Harry sniffles, sitting up. “We should get ready. Your mum said I have to help you pack since you’re absolute shit at it.”

 

They shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, then sit on Louis’ floor and start to put all his stuff back in his bags. “How did you bring so much _stuff?_ I thought you were a light packer!”

“Styles, it was the whole fucking summer!” Louis protests. “And I think my mum bought me things while I was here.”

Harry laughs. “That’s bullshit. Just admit you’re not as great a luggage packer as you used to be and let’s get on with it.”

Instead of admittance, Louis blurts, “I want you to drive back to New York with me.”

Harry drops what he was holding in his hands and looks up at Louis, awed. “You do?”

“Yeah, fuck. I, uh, I’m not ready to let you go yet, H. I’ll pay for your ticket home from there, but I’d like to at least have a few more days. School doesn’t start up until September and I just-”

“You’re talking shit again!” Harry exclaims. “I’ll come back to New York again, you absolute knob. I wanna see the city and see where you live and what a day in your life is like. I’ll stay for as long as I possibly can, as long as you’ll have me.”

Louis breaks out into a relieved smile and starts talking about New York, but Harry hardly hears him. Louis’ grinning impossibly wide and he seems impossibly eager for this, it’s magnificent. He looks breathtaking, with the morning sun rising higher in the sky and bathing them in the warm light and the smell of breakfast from downstairs. Harry has missed looking at him like this; he’s missed eight entire years of not seeing every inch of Louis in every way possible and he can’t want to start seeing him like that again. He loves him, a lot, will probably never stop.

Bonnet Shores has seen Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in a lot of different ways. It’s seen them as lovestruck teenagers, as oblivious friends, as fighting lovers, as sex-obsessed boyfriends. It missed them for _eight entire years_ (Harry will never get over the time that was taken from them) and now gets to see them again; as quarreling adults, as angry enemies, as lovestruck twentysomethings.

Their small vacation homes have changed the tides on Harry’s life a shitload of times, but somehow, they’ve always brought Louis back to him. For eight years Harry wished for Louis to wash up on his shore, for Louis to show himself in the constellations Harry watched. It figures Bonnet was all it took for them to get each other back.

 


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the grand finale.

**[EPILOGUE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJ6wJqaE6o4) (ONE YEAR LATER)**

_to hate  
_ _is an easy lazy thing  
_ _but to love  
_ _takes strength  
_ _everyone has  
_ _but not all are  
_ _willing to practice._  
-rupi kaur

“Baby! Come look over this for me!” The sound of Louis’ voice fills the small apartment. There’s no need to yell, but Harry doesn’t remind him of this because there’s no use in doing so.

“It’s really not all that difficult, Lou. It’s all _your_ information anyway, you said this was a surprise for _me.”_

Louis groans, tossing the laptop down onto the bed. “Just look over it, I’m really good at forgetting to fill in the blanks.”

“It’s a job application, not rocket science.”

“Baby, I’m in love with you and I want to bring you to Bonnet this summer but if we go I _need_ a job there. Bartending is a good enough gig, I dabbled in it at uni and I think I qualify. So _please_ just look over this.”

Harry grins. “Well, since you said please,” he says sweetly, pecking Louis’ lips before picking the computer up. “I still think you could get by playing gigs at the bar with me, we’d be a hit, babe.”

“That wouldn’t be enough, love. I’ve got big plans for our future, one of which includes getting us out of this shitty apartment that I’ve been in for far too long.”

“And giving me the wedding you and I both know I deserve.”

“Shit, would you relax? I haven’t even put a ring on it yet.”

“No, but you promise that you will,” Harry singsongs. He doesn’t say anything further, just focuses on reading over the resume Louis plans on sending in. The bar will hire him in no time; they know Louis and that gets him in right off the bat. Harry also really wants to spend the summer in Bonnet with Louis, so if getting him a job there makes Louis feel better about missing another summer at Liam’s label, then Harry will do whatever he has to do.

“They’d be idiots not to hire you, Lou,” Harry tells him, shutting the laptop. “I think you’re a magnificent bartender. And you’re not even too old!”

Louis’ twenty-ninth birthday came with a fight, of course. Louis would’ve stopped it if he could. Harry never misses an opportunity to tease him about it, of course. It’s done lovingly; Harry doesn’t think Louis’ old, he’s as youthful and entertaining and energetic as ever. Twenty-nine isn’t even old, he tells Louis over and over again, but Louis’ not keen on hearing it. He thinks what he thinks and that’s all.

“I don’t hear you complaining about how old I am when we’re in bed,” Louis says under his breath, laying back against the pillows. “Thanks for looking at the resume, baby. I promise I won’t be working all summer if we end up going, it’ll only be nights. And you’ll be there for most of them, anyways. It’ll be fun.”

He reaches up and pulls Harry in close. “What do you wanna do tonight?” Harry asks, kissing Louis’ neck. “Because _I_ have some ideas.”

“I’ve got shit to grade, baby. I had the kids write three pages of a script a week or so ago and the end of the term is here now and I haven’t graded them. My procrastination and your horniness is a terrible combination, my love.”

Harry groans. He knows he could convince Louis to do _anything_ other than grading papers, but he decides not to. He sits up and grabs Louis’ grading folder from the bedside table. “Let’s grade some papers, then, baby.”

Louis grins at him, passing Harry a pen and taking a pile of papers. They grade into the night, opening the cheap bottle of wine they’d bought at the grocery store and talking and laughing and kissing. Harry turns on the radio and they sing along to the songs that come on and he feels _happy._ He loves Louis so fucking much and Harry’s so, so glad that this is his life; this tiny apartment and his shitty office job and Louis’ teaching position and the money struggles. It’s all he ever could have hoped for, and as long as Louis’ there, Harry will settle for just about anything.

“I love you, you know that?” Harry asks quietly, dropping his red pen on the bed.

Louis shrugs. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is the end!!! remember to come yell at me! @allgonnamakeit_ on twitter, alwaysbearound on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> alright! here we are! come yell at me on twitter (@allgonnamakeit_) or my tumblr (alwaysbearound) ! you won't hear from me again until closer to christmas time, because CHRISTMAS FIC EXCHANGES!!!!!! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed - this is one of my favorite things that i've ever written. i'm very proud of it, so thank u for any feedback you decide to give me!! one kudos = one facepalm every time louis does something stupid.


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